Backfire: Original
by brainchild
Summary: This is the story of the girl who stood next to The Boy Who Lived, the second of two young women who looked evil in the face and did not flinch, who stumbled upon the kind of love that comes along once in a generation. In the Prelude to Destiny universe.
1. Prologue

**Important Note: **This version of Backfire is being discontinued. I am rewriting the story under the same title. Please go to the author's page to find the rewritten version. It is the one that will be finished. For more information, please see the author's note in Chapter 17.

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**Author's Note**: Hi, as of this story, the handle Brainchild is now home to two authors: **AnotherDreamer** and **Holden107** (our primary posting site is Schnoogle, under those handles). All the other stories here are written (and very well) by AnotherDreamer, the creater of this marvelous universe and the original McGraths. Backfire is the only story written by Holden107. This story is a sequel (of sorts) to Prelude to Destiny. It picks up with Ginny where AnotherDreamer left off with Lily. Further explanation of how Brainchild is now a shared home can be found on the profile page. There is a yahoo group for readers of the McGrath Universe stories (i.e., stories involving the characters originating in Prelude) and all are welcome to join (the links can also be found on the profile page). It is highly recommended that you read Prelude before reading this story; the characters will not mean nearly as much if you don't. Enjoy.

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**PROLOGUE**

**Backfire:**

1. to bring a result opposite to that which was planned or expected;

2. to start a fire deliberately in order to check or stop the advance of a larger, more dangerous one . . .

(Webster's New Universal Unabridged Dictionary)

Broad tendencies in forest fires have long been known. Blazes accelerate amid evergreens, but sputter in leafy stands. They speed naturally downwind and uphill, and grow fiercer and faster in the late afternoon than at night. Such truths have traditionally dictated firefighting tactics. Years of experience and research into fire behavior tell firefighters whether a particular blaze is likely to flare or fizzle, to threaten a town or burn itself out harmlessly. Leaders must anticipate this, and adjust their efforts, like chess pieces, to head off danger.

Fires have many ways of starting. Deep in the woods, where the light does not reach, some small, lifeless, dried out vestige serves as the fuel. All it takes is a bit of carelessness, or worse, some evil, destructive purpose. Sometimes massive forest fires begin from ignorance or indifference. Sometimes they are the result of arson.

Sometimes they are created by both. This is the most dangerous fire—where ignorance, carelessness, and denial are supplemented and exploited by an intense effort to wreak destruction.

As the fire spreads, it leaves death and darkness, even despair, in its wake. The colors of life, of nature, are vanquished in favor of the brittle black of carbon. But the flora are not the only casualties. Fire consumes oxygen—as it proceeds it steals away the very breath of any who get in its way. It does not discriminate. It kills man and woman, young and old, rich and poor, weak and strong, friend and foe. It cares nothing for others. It exists only for itself and it will survive as long as there is a path to conquer, breath to steal, room to spread.

But the world consists of more than just fire and potential fuel. The Earth houses more than merely existence and destruction. There are forces that fight the fires. Whether it is the natural barriers of lakes and rocks or the sheer luck of rain pouring down at the right moment, something has always halted the fires. Life has always prevailed in the end. But in the meantime, the greatest of these fires cannot be stopped before they wreak havoc, before they take lives and destroy families.

One such fire was thought to be extinguished on Halloween night, 1981.

But it had begun to burn again.

_The thin man stepped out of the cauldron, staring at Harry . . ._

_and Harry stared back into the face that had haunted his nightmares_

_for three years. Whiter than a skull, with wide, livid, scarlet eyes_

_and a nose that was flat as a snake's with slits for nostrils . . ._

_Lord Voldemort had risen again._

There is a third way, after nature and luck, that these awful fires can be defeated. There is a grand Muggle expression that directs us, in desperate times, to "fight fire with fire." So that is what we do. A backfire is a smaller, guided fire that, while set purposefully by firefighters, is no less powerful or dangerous than the fire it was created to stop. Wise and experienced firefighters know that starting a backfire can head off and contain a great blaze that otherwise defies nature and fortune, a great fire that seems invincible, that seems as though it will explode and blacken everything in its path.

But this fiery monster is forced to halt if it collides with a backfire. If the position, the power, and the direction are just right, the line of the backfire cannot be breached. Though it is smaller in size, the death, the darkness, and the destruction will stop its ruthless progress. The flames will be contained and then carefully put out by the firefighters. Cool and quiet will return, and new life will emerge, like a phoenix, from the blackness and burning.

Lighting a backfire is an art; it must be set in the path of a moving fire, near enough to be sucked in by the powerful draw of the main fire, but distant enough to prevent damage to those creating it. When the two fires collide, the larger fire's momentum is slowed by the lack of fuel in its path. As well as slowing the advance of the main fire, a backfire can help steer the greater blaze into a lake or river, or clear smoke away to give firefighters a clear view of the target, sealing the destruction of the angry flames.

So you see, like with magic, there is good fire and bad fire. And as with magic, the fires that are born of ignorance and evil can be met and conquered by those that are set with purpose and guided by compassion and justice.

"_You know, of course, that they have called this boy my downfall?"_

_Voldemort said softly, his red eyes upon Harry, whose scar began to_

_burn so fiercely that he almost screamed in agony. "You all know_

_that on the night I lost my powers and my body, I tried to kill him._

_His mother died in the attempt to save him—and unwittingly provided_

_him with a protection I admit I had not foreseen . . . I could not touch_

_the boy."_

_Voldemort raised on of his long white fingers and put it very close_

_to Harry's cheek._

"_His mother left upon him the traces of her sacrifice . . . . This is old_

_magic, I should have remembered it, I was foolish to overlook_

_it . . . but no matter. I can touch him now."_

And so we pick up our story now that this terrible conflagration has begun to burn again, now that it has burst forth from where it was thought to be contained for thirteen years. This is the second part of a tale of two extraordinary young women. Two women who never met, who only had two things in common: the fiery hair of the flames they represent, and their love for a remarkable boy with green eyes and messy black hair.

The first woman, the first backfire, failed. But because of her, that heartless, heinous blaze was contained just long enough for a new one to take her place. Now we return to a world that is once again slowly being engulfed by a horrible and familiar force that leaves only blackness in its wake, and we see that this second backfire is about to ignite.

The love of a mother could only contain this evil the first time. Will the love of a lifetime be enough to extinguish it forever? Will the one with the power of the prophecy be able to fuel that love and with it, douse the flames of evil in the end?

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	2. Seventh of the Seventh

**CHAPTER 1**

**Seventh of the Seventh or What Lucius Malfoy Forgot**

This was not how it was supposed to go.

The alliance she had so carefully constructed with her youngest brother had fallen apart, and here she was, fending for herself again. _The story of my life_. He would get his, but for now, she had to hide.

She was crouched, half-sitting in a large cupboard, trying to breathe as quietly as humanly possible. The silence was deafening. She fell into a bit of a trance as she concentrated solely on breathing and the small piece of wood protruding from the wall that was jabbing her in the kidney. She was startled by the sound of small feet lightly treading on the carpet, and her head jerked toward the noise. She held her breath, even though it couldn't possibly be—_No, it couldn't be_. . . The steps slowed and grew nearer, finally stopping. The door opened.

"Miss Wheezy?"

"Dobby!" His big eyes gazed back at her, perplexed.

"What is you doing here?"

"Shh!" She heard distant pounding on the stairs, maybe two flights down, but rising. "Quick! Get in here!" She tugged the very confused house elf into the cupboard with her—not an easy task. She had barely fit before, and adding a friend, small though he was, made it a tight fit indeed. As she heard the loud clomping of footsteps come up the stairs, it was accompanied by voices she knew all too well.

"Where the bloody hell did she go?" That was Ron, the traitor. She could tell by the exasperated tone and the gratuitous swearing.

"Have we checked everywhere?" Leave it to George, the methodical one, to get them back on track.

"It's not like she's still six, for Merlin's sake. There aren't that many places she could be!" And there was Fred, to round out the trio.

"Wish we had a Marauder's Map for _this_ bloody place," Ron whined. Ginny smirked to herself and Dobby turned to look at her.

"Is Miss hiding from the other Wheezys?" he whispered, no longer puzzled by her odd behavior. She nodded. Dobby nodded back, as if her answer had indicated a particular action he was to take. Ginny tried not to worry, but she was well aware of all the times Dobby had tried to "help" Harry and was not encouraged by his track record.

Dobby got very still for a moment, and then all four Weasleys (those in plain sight and not) heard a violent crash and clanging that sounded suspiciously like the pots and pans had been disturbed in the kitchen. The three boys jumped at the sudden noise, looked at each other with wide eyes as if Christmas had come early, and took off stampeding back down the stairs. Ginny looked down at Dobby with a grin, which he returned. They half-fell out of the cupboard, and Dobby grabbed Ginny's hand as she went to brush off her shorts.

"Miss should follow Dobby. He is knowing a good trick she can play!" Dobby looked predictably excited about potentially being able to help, and Ginny allowed him to lead her away. He took her down the hall, the opposite way from the stairs her brothers had just trampled down. They had almost reached the end of the hall when Dobby stopped Ginny in front of what appeared to be just a plain, empty wall. Ginny watched as the elf pointed to the wall, mumbling something.

At one point the tip of his finger glowed briefly and went out, which seemed to bring him some level of satisfaction. Quite unexpectedly, he reached up and unceremoniously grabbed her hand again, yanking it to point at the wall as he had done moments before. He started mumbling again, and this time the tip of _her_ finger glowed before going out. As it did so, Ginny felt a soothing warmth at the end of her finger, but it was gone as quickly as it had come. She turned to the house elf in curiosity, just as he looked up at her.

"It is just as Dobby is thinking." Dobby appeared quite pleased with Ginny, apparently because her finger had glowed. Then more excited: "the big Wheezys will never be following Miss into here!" And with that he took off into the wall, as if it were the entrance to Platform 9¾. Ginny stood there, struck dumb, until a small hand reached out and yanked her through the wall as well.

Once she had decided that Dobby had indeed _pulled her through a wall_, and that she had made it to the other side in one piece, she chuckled. The "big Wheezys." He wasn't kidding. As far as Ginny was concerned her brothers were obnoxiously tall compared to her newly broken 5'5". The twins stood at a respectable 6 feet, while Ron towered at what must have been 6'3". The twins had filled out more than Ron, but Ginny was not excited about the prospect of wrestling her youngest brother once his muscles finally caught up with his height. He could stay lanky for as long as he liked, thank you very much.

Ginny followed Dobby down what was obviously a shortcut for house elves, seeing as she had to bend down to walk through it. They went down a couple flights of mini steps, until they had nearly reached the end. Ginny had a hunch it opened to the kitchen. Dobby stopped and turned.

"Dobby is thinking that Miss is wanting revenge on Harry Potter's Wheezy." _Wow, he's good. Probably has some special elf magic that lets him know everything that goes on in the house_. Yes, Ron would get what was coming to him. She smiled in a way that would have made even Fred and George cringe with dread.

"Yes, I do, Dobby. Can you help me with that?" _Such a helpful little guy_, she thought bemusedly. Dobby seemed to understand.

"Miss should be watching what Dobby is doing, and be copying, okay?" He turned gleefully toward the entrance to the kitchen. Ginny stopped, and frantically pulled him back.

"But Dobby, I can't do magic outside of Hogwarts! I'll get in trouble! Harry almost got expelled last year and he was protecting himself!" Ginny's expression drooped as she pondered the loss of her sweet, sweet revenge. But, as always, Dobby remained undaunted.

"But Miss isn't to be using her wand! So Miss isn't to be getting caught! Dobby is knowing that the minister isn't finding magic without Miss using a wand." Ginny remained skeptical about the probability of not getting caught; for the moment, she brushed aside even exploring the notion of performing wandless magic on her own. . . _In a secret passage_. . ._of the bloody Black family mansion_. . ._with Dobby_.

"Dobby, are you sure?" Dobby's cheerfulness would not be repressed.

"Of course Dobby is sure, Miss! Dobby is knowing all about the different magics, and Miss should stop her worrying." Ginny decided that if Dobby was this confident, who was she to ruin their fun? Besides, the concern about getting in trouble assumed she could even _do_ wandless magic in the first place. She nodded and followed Dobby to the wall that presumably led into the kitchen. She could hear her brothers still looking for her and talking to each other. Dobby waived his hand over part of the wall and it slowly turned into a liquid-like substance that—Ginny gasped—allowed her to see right into the kitchen! It was like a liquid window and she strongly suspected that the viewing only went one way.

"This is brilliant, Dobby!" she whispered. He beamed. "What do we do next!"

Dobby nodded once and turned back toward the liquid window, pointing at something in the kitchen. Ginny soon discovered that he had been pointing at a banana, because as he began to move his hand, a banana rose up off the fruit rack and was soon floating in the direction of her unsuspecting brothers. A flick of his wrist sent the banana flying into the back of Ron's head. Ginny shoved her fist in her mouth to keep from laughing out loud as Ron twisted around, holding his head.

"What the bloody hell was that!" The twins were doubled over with laughter. Dobby turned back to Ginny.

"Would Miss be liking to try?" She beamed in response.

"It wouldn't hurt, I suppose." Dobby nodded happily and moved a bit to let Ginny get closer to the window. She had no idea what she was supposed to be doing. Dobby hadn't even said an incantation. _Whatever. Here goes nothing._

She pointed her finger at a big pot lying upside down on the table and concentrated very hard on the mental image of it lifting off the rough, wooden surface. She faltered a bit when she felt something strange and warm, but not unpleasant, rising in her gut. She focused on the pot once more, and tried again, steadying herself as the warmth rose up through her chest and shoulders, and out to her fingertips. Slowly, to her shock and surprise, the pot began to hover above the table. Ron was still ranting and raving about the banana, so it took a moment for one of the twins to notice a big metal pot hanging upside down in the air.

"What the blazes is going on?" Fred noticed first, pointing at Ginny's progress. Gaining confidence after her initial accomplishment, Ginny grew more bold. Slowly swinging her hand from side to side, the pot began moving in a parallel motion. Her brothers' eyes were wide. She started moving her hand in all different directions, flinging the pot around so that her brothers had to dodge and duck to avoid getting hit. Enjoying herself to the utmost, she prepared for her grand finale.

"THIS IS WHAT YOU GET FOR DOUBLE-CROSSING YOUR LITTLE SISTER!" she yelled, plunking the pot down, straight onto Ron's head. The twins quickly broke out of their shock and fell to the floor with laughter, as Ron flailed to rip the pot from his head. Ginny took this opportunity to jump out of her hiding place and into view, laughing her head off as well.

"How do you like that, you great prat!" she said, still laughing. Ron turned and tried to look angry, but with the twins still on the floor, and a huge grin on his baby sister's face, it was hard not to smile himself.

"How in the name of Agrippa, did you do that, littlest Weasley?" Fred asked, clearly impressed.

"I had a bit of help from Dobby, but I'm afraid I can't reveal the rest of my secrets." Ginny smiled impishly. She turned and looked triumphantly at Ron. "You'd think you'd have learned your lesson by now, _Ronald_, but I guess your thickness is not to be underestimated."

Ron sighed, acknowledging defeat, but smiling at his sister's trick. "Alright, Gin, you got me. You lot want to play some chess?"

Ginny and the twins agreed, and the three boys headed to one of the parlors. Ginny stayed in the kitchen, and when she was alone, turned back to the wall she had jumped out of a few minutes before. She pointed at it and, once she saw that her finger went right through the wall, shoved her head through to find Dobby waiting with his usual smile.

"Thanks for all your help, Dobby."

"It is nothing, Miss. Dobby is happy to be helping. Would Miss and her Wheezys be liking some pumpkin juice for their game?"

"That would be lovely, Dobby. I promise, when Mum gets back, I will have her knit you another jumper like the one Ron gave you." Dobby looked like he might burst for happiness.

"Oh! Miss Wheezy is the kindest of all witches! Dobby knew that Miss was kind and brave for going to save Harry Potter's godfather, but now Miss is being so kind to Dobby too! Dobby knows Miss is being a powerful witch, and she is surely deserving Harry Potter!"

Throughout his little speech, a series of emotions plainly made their way over Ginny's face—Warmth, humor, nostalgia, sadness….alarm. But before she could object or respond to Dobby's last, ambiguous pronouncement, he snapped his fingers and disappeared. She pulled her head out of the wall and walked distractedly to find her brothers.

George and Ron were already engrossed in a game of chess, but Fred looked at her with a curious expression, one eyebrow raised in silent question. She caught his eye and shook her head, mouthing "later." Fred nodded and went back to watching the game.

Ginny noticed that in the brief time it took her to walk into the front parlor, Dobby had already brought the pumpkin juice and gone again. _Sneaky little bugger_. She had hoped to question him about what he said in the cupboard, but he was avoiding her. She smiled to herself and turned her attention toward the chess pieces, who were already threatening to riot.

It was late June, only a week since they had left Harry at King's Cross. The word from Dumbledore was that Harry could join them in a week. Ginny had insisted that they keep the state of the house a secret until he arrived, since she figured he could probably use a pleasant surprise after everything that had happened. She knew he couldn't be overjoyed at the prospect of returning to Grimmauld Place at all, let alone one without Sirius. Of course, if all went as planned, Harry wouldn't have to be at Grimmauld Place for very long.

They had been back from school for barely a day when she decided that she couldn't take it anymore. Maybe it would have been different if Ron wasn't holed up in his room brooding and writing to Hermione, or if the twins were around, but as it was, there was nothing to do but think about what had happened and look at her surroundings. Neither of those options was the least bit appealing.

Whenever she looked at the house, she was always reminded of the gaunt, frustrated, anguished version of Sirius as she first knew him, rather than the friend she had come to confide in late at night, whose eyes danced when he laughed, and whose arms made her feel safe when they comforted her. She wanted the darkness to be eradicated. She wanted to make it a home again, partially for Harry's sake, but mostly because she thought Sirius would have liked to see the foulness and the darkness extinguished.

Ginny finally managed to push back her grief for a bit, locking it in a box and shoving into the recesses of her mind. When she'd come painfully close to tears for the fifth time since they walked in the door, she plunged into her summer assignments. For the remaining time at Hogwarts she had been able to distract herself by observing Harry and finishing her final exams. Now astute observation and finals had given way to some slightly overzealous O.W.L. preparation.

The purpose of putting off her grief was twofold. First, since she was back around her parents, she knew any showing of distress would only aggravate their perception of her as a helpless little girl, whether it was deserved or not; and that was the last thing she needed. It was bad enough watching her mother shift from the relieved but proud reception given to Ron, to the pitiful, tearful head-shaking and scolding that Ginny herself had received. She did not need that to be compounded.

The second reason that Ginny had elected to tackle her studies so early in the holiday was purely in the interest of denial. Not denial that Sirius was gone, but that his absence now meant that Ginny was all alone again, without an understanding companion or a confidante. It was sad and kind of pathetic to say it, but in Sirius she had found a truly mutual friendship for the first time.

As much as she liked her friends at Hogwarts, there were certain aspects of her life that she'd always kept to herself; i.e., the diary, Voldemort, and the Order. Also, her well-hidden feelings for Harry. But with Sirius, she had felt comfortable talking about those things. They had exchanged confessions about the demons that haunted them. With all her school friends, Ginny felt like any exchange in confidence would be horribly lop-sided, and so she held back. With the trio, of course, the one-sided-ness of friendship ran completely in the opposite direction.

There were, however, prospects for the future. Starting in their third year, and particularly with the turbulence of their fourth, she had grown very close with two of her fellow fifth year Gryffindors: Kerney Scott and Andy McGrath.

The Kernel (as she was sometimes affectionately called) was Muggle-born, but had an older brother about Percy's age, who had gone to Hogwarts as well. She was only slightly taller than Ginny, with rich, chestnut brown hair and matching eyes. Her slender build was far more like Luna's than Ginny's athletic, toned figure. She came across as quiet, but had an exquisite sense of humor and spoke up when she thought circumstances required it. Kerney Scott was the closest thing Ginny had to a true best friend.

Besides Andrew McGrath. Eleven months older than Ginny, Andy was tall, but not overly so like Ron. Unlike most boys, he never seemed to go through an awkward growth stage. He was from a Pureblood family and had a younger brother, Stevie, also in Gryffindor. He had kept his blonde hair a bit longer last year than he usually did, and it only made his dull blue eyes stand out more. He was incredibly good looking. Strangely, the fact that Ginny had always held a great blazing torch for Harry had contributed significantly to her becoming such good friends with Andy.

He was without question the best looking bloke in their year, and therefore received quite a bit of attention from the girls at Hogwarts. Ironically, he had very few female friends, mostly because any girls he met couldn't stay _just_ friends with him for long. Since there had never been (and never would be) a threat of that happening with Ginny, the two of them had become very comfortable around each other.

The only other girl who Ginny could put anywhere close to the category of being friends with Andy was her dorm mate, Nadine Ryan. And perhaps Kerney, but that was only by association with Ginny.

The Ryans and the McGraths had been next-door neighbors since Andy was born. The two families were great friends, and their children had grown up together. Nadine and Andy had a younger sister and brother, respectively, both of whom were third years, and Gryffindors like their siblings. Unlike their siblings, Nadia Ryan and Stephen McGrath were best mates. Inseparable. Where Nadine and Andy never seemed to be able to relax around each other, Nadia and Stevie were a dynamic duo. Nadine and Andy were quite another story.

Having watched the two of them interact for over four years, Ginny was always intrigued and more than a little amused at how they carried on. They knew each other better than anyone else in the world, they had the same friends, and their families were extremely close. But all that didn't mean they ever had anything nice to say to each other. So what if Andy adored Nadia like she was his own baby sister. So what if Nadine was the only one who could calm Stevie down when he was angry or upset.

Andy was usually easy-going and friendly, though not a particularly loud person. But whenever Nadine would sit down at the breakfast table, or sit next to them in the common room, his shoulders always tensed the slightest bit, and something in him—something that Ginny couldn't name—would switch on. Notwithstanding his sarcastic and negative words, it was almost as if his senses would come alive when Nadine was around.

When they were younger, Ginny had chalked it up to the fact that he had to be more astute and alert so that he could return Nadine's barbs and insults with clever ones of his own. But over the last year Ginny thought it was more like Andy began to see the world in color, with sound, whenever Nadine was around, rather than the silent, black-and-white version it usually was.

Ginny smiled to herself as she thought of her friends, and upon the realization that she was smiling, remembered all the reasons she had _not_ to smile. Even if they acted like they couldn't stand each other, as next door neighbors, they got to see someone their own age, they even got to go outside and enjoy the summer weather.

At any rate, Ginny was bored, without company, trying to avoid showing any outside evidence of grief, and was determined to exorcise the Darkness from the house.

From last summer, she knew that Dumbledore would rarely be making an appearance at headquarters, so she made sure that when he did arrive, she would be aware, and she would be ready. Her chance came three days later. She had stayed up well past midnight each night, putting some extendable ears to good use. None of the meetings thus far had included anyone she cared to see at the moment, not even McGonagall, who might have had a clue as to when Dumbledore could be expected to drop in.

It was about twenty past two in the morning on the third night of her vigil and Ginny was starting to nod off ever so slightly. Her brain had by now subconsciously catalogued the usual voices that wafted up from the kitchen when they thought she and Ron were asleep—Tonks, Remus, Kingsley, Moody, Dedalus, her parents, Bill—and only the introduction of a new one would have nudged her out of her almost-slumber.

Her ears—both biological and extendable—perked up at the sound of the deliberate, cautious tones of the headmaster's voice. Ginny dashed silently back to her room to grab the letter she had written to the old professor. As she suspected he might just Portkey back to Hogwarts or use some mysterious Dumbledore way to leave the kitchen directly, she crept down the stairs and knocked on the kitchen door. The voices halted, and Tonks opened the door.

"Sorry, but I woke up and wanted a drink." She glanced at her mother, who was looking none too pleased at the interruption. Bill was standing behind her mother's chair, trying to conceal a smirk. _The git thinks I was trying to eavesdrop, but for once, I'm actually not!_

"No problem, we could use a break anyhow." Tonks opened the door wider and moved out of the way to let Ginny enter. She quickly walked over to the cupboard with the glasses, grabbed one, and poured herself some pumpkin juice. Ruse completed, she walked up to Dumbledore, handed him the letter with a smile, and left the kitchen with a "Goodnight," closing the door behind her.

Back in her bed, she considered the likelihood of the headmaster acquiescing to her request. About fifteen minutes later (though it seemed like much longer) there was a knock on her door. _That would be Mum checking to see I've gone to bed and not back to spying_.

"Yes?" she answered. The door opened, and a head poked out into view.

"Ginny?" It was Bill. "Professor Dumbledore would like to speak to you for a moment, if you're not too tired." She leapt out of bed, and hurried to the door. She turned to him as they walked to meet the headmaster.

"I know you think I was eavesdropping earlier, but if I was trying to hear something juicy, don't you think I'd conceal myself rather than knock and let you lot know I'm there?" She smirked at him. He chuckled.

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. I guess I'm just used to Mum trying to catch Fred and George all the time."

"But there's a difference between them and me, big brother." His eyebrows raised in curiosity. "If I wanted to hide, _I_ wouldn't be caught." Bill smiled and shook his head, ruffling her hair affectionately with his hand.

"I don't doubt it Gin. You always were the cleverest one." They had arrived in the foyer, near the front door and the infuriating portrait of Sirius' mother. Ginny reached up and kissed Bill on the cheek, and turned to find Dumbledore standing in the front parlor.

"Professor," she greeted, smiling as she walked up to him.

"Miss Weasley." He smiled back at her. She always liked the way he looked at her as if they shared a private cosmic joke of some type. They weren't strangers, anyhow. She'd had more than her share of private conversations with the old headmaster at Hogwarts, and was probably as familiar with his office as Harry.

"Did you read my note?" she asked. His smile grew wider.

"I did," he replied, pulling said note out into view. "And I believe it is a fine request. I'm certain Dobby will feel honored and humbled to be asked to assist with such a favor." Ginny beamed in satisfaction.

"Do you think they can wage war properly on this old place?" she inquired, good-naturedly.

"Elf magic is quite powerful in its own way, and yes, I believe it will be a match for the evil that dwells in this house." His eyes sparkled.

"Thanks, Professor. I think Sirius and Harry would both appreciate it." Dumbledore's eyes saddened ever so slightly. If she had not been so familiar with them, she would not have noticed.

"Yes, I daresay they would. Is there anything else you wish to ask me?"

"Actually, yes." She paused, lowering her voice. "Have you thought about what I asked you before school let out?" She looked slightly anxious, unconsciously biting her bottom lip. Dumbledore nodded a few times and leaned in to whisper.

"I have, and I believe there should be no trouble in arranging it. I would like to speak with you again before the term begins, to go over the details of your plan. Does that suit you?" She sighed in relief, and her countenance now showed a calm satisfaction.

"Yes, sir. That would be brilliant. Thank you, Professor. " She extended her hand to shake his. She hoped her small smile could convey her gratitude better than the measly verbal one. _I know you're busy and have way more important things to do than worry about me_.

"Not at all. If that concludes our business, I believe it would be best for us both to get to bed."

"Yes. Good night, Professor Dumbledore."

"Good night, Miss Weasley." And that was that.

The next morning—though it would soon be afternoon—Ginny went downstairs to find her mother already making lunch and Remus reading the paper. Remus looked up from his _Daily Prophet_ and smiled.

"I hear we'll be receiving some guests this afternoon."

"That's the plan," Ginny replied, dumping herself onto a chair and stifling a yawn. "Do you lot ever sleep?"

"Of course we do," Mrs. Weasley answered, coming over to the table with plates full of food and setting them down in front of her daughter and the werewolf. "We're just not lazy like you and your brother. Don't tell me Ron's still asleep?"

"I haven't a clue, but I reckon so. He would sleep through the whole holiday if you'd let him." Remus chuckled at this, but his smile did not quite reach his eyes.

"I could too, when I was sixteen. James was the worst, though. He could sleep forever, and was always waking up late for classes. I used to think that was why his hair always looked so messy, but from looking at Harry I guess it was just naturally like that."

Ginny smiled. She liked hearing about Sirius and Remus and Harry's dad when they were at Hogwarts. Just then, the fireplace swirled green and two house elves trotted out into the kitchen. Dobby spotted Ginny and perked up at seeing someone he recognized. Winky, as always, looked like she was trying to disappear.

"Oh, it is Miss Wheezy! Dobby is so happy to see her! Dobby is missing her in the summer when she is being away and not coming to see him in the kitchens!"

At this, Remus let out a bark of laughter, which was followed by Mrs. Weasley whirling around to glare at Ginny, who ignored her and glared at Remus. _Thanks for the help, mister_. Remus tried to hide his laugh in a fake cough, but it was a very poor attempt at a cover. Either he was out of practice or he hadn't been very good at bullshitting or getting out of trouble in school. _Nah, that was probably Sirius_, she thought_. Or Harry's dad._

"What does he mean, you go to see him in the _kitchens_, young lady? Lord knows I've had to send howlers on account of your brothers. Now I'll have to send them for you, too?"

Dobby looked back and forth between the three humans, and Winky looked anxious at all the loud noise.

Ginny was relatively unfazed by this threat. She'd never been caught breaking the rules before—_Well, not by a legitimate teacher, anyhow. That absolute toad Umbridge doesn't count_—and she was quite used to hearing her mother's raised voice by now. _Yet another advantage to growing up with the twins_. She turned her head so her mother wouldn't see her smirk at that thought. She turned back to Dobby.

"Thanks for coming, Dobby. This is Remus." She indicated her old Defense professor. "He went to Hogwarts a long time ago. He's a good friend of Harry's." Remus smiled and nodded, while Dobby plunged into a bow. She turned to her mother. "And this is my Mum. She's Ron's Mum too, and a good friend of Harry's as well." Dobby bowed again, and Mrs. Weasley smiled. Ginny tilted her head to get a better view of Winky.

"Hi Winky! Thanks for helping Dobby with the house." Winky looked up, and for the first time looked sober enough not to dissolve into tears at the mere mention of serving someone who wasn't Barty Crouch. Winky, still obviously nervous, gave a small curtsy.

"Winky is happy to be helping in a proper house again, Miss." The little wreck of an elf didn't quite smile, but Ginny was heartened nonetheless by the fact that Winky finally appeared to be moving on from her previous master.

"Well, I was hoping that you guys could spruce the place up a bit. Harry will be coming in a few days, and I think it would cheer him up if it wasn't so…dark." She paused. "You wouldn't have to cook, though, 'cause Mum likes to do that, but this place reeks of the Dark Arts. Some paint and polish wouldn't hurt either." Dobby beamed in his typical manner, and Winky smiled at last.

"We is going to make the house like new for Harry Potter and Miss Wheezy, for they are the kindest of all wizards and witches."

Remus snorted, but the elves didn't seem to notice. Ginny blushed a little, though she couldn't say whether it was at the exuberant praise of her kindness, or the fact that Dobby seemed to think the house was for her and Harry. _Laugh it up, werewolf man_.

"Er…thanks, Dobby. Have at it. Let me or Mum know if you need anything, okay?" Dobby bowed again and Winky curtsied again behind him.

"Yes, Miss, we will." Winky nodded in agreement with Dobby's reply. With that cheerful response, they snapped their fingers and disappeared.

"I wonder how long it will take them?" Ginny asked no one in particular.

"I wouldn't expect a miracle over night, although house elves can do some pretty amazing things," Remus replied. He turned back to his newspaper.

Remus wasn't kidding. By the next morning there had been a dramatic improvement in the house's interior and frankly the air itself seemed cleaner and purer. _House elves are brilliant_, Ginny thought to herself. The kitchen especially looked like a completely different place. Mum had been delighted at the transformation, and in gratitude, had forged a compromise with Dobby and Winky: If they let her do the cooking, she would let them clean up afterwards. Ron voiced his opinion that they were all nutters.

At the rate Dobby and Winky were going, the house would look simply smashing by the time Harry arrived. She thought their progress might have been even faster, but they likely had to account for Kreacher's demented efforts to thwart them at every turn. One obstacle that remained, however, was the menacing portrait of Mrs. Black that hung in the front hall.

Later that night, Ginny jerked awake and sat up in bed. She wasn't sure if she'd been having a nightmare, or why she'd woken up, but felt like the best course of action would be to get a drink from the kitchen. She stole quietly down the stairs, past the curtains that concealed the grotesque countenance of Sirius's mother, and into the kitchen. There was no Order meeting tonight, and the house was eerily silent. She finished her pumpkin juice, put her glass in the sink, and left the kitchen to return to bed.

She slowed her pace as she approached the front hall—she could hear someone whispering or mumbling up ahead. As she neared the portrait of Mrs. Black, she was astonished to find the curtains wide open. It was a slightly disarming experience because Ginny had never seen the portrait open without hearing the accompanying screeches and shrieks.

Ginny stopped about three feet from the portrait and heard the whispering cease. She made eye contact with the nasty old woman, who peered back at her suspiciously through squinted, hate-filled eyes. She expected Kreacher to come stalking by any second. _Foul little monster_.

"I know what you are doing, you little blood traitor," Mrs. Black accused, still whispering. It was decidedly odd to hear her voice when it wasn't screaming like a banshee. Ginny refused to be intimidated by the revolting and condescending creature before her.

"I'm afraid I don't know what you mean," Ginny whispered back calmly, but with a hint of defiance.

"Yes you do. Bringing in those foul little creatures to desecrate my house."

"It's not your house. It's Sirius' house," Ginny corrected.

"As long as I adorn these walls, it will remain the house of the Blacks. Not of bastard children who shame the race into which they were born."

By the reference to "children" instead of "child" Ginny figured she was having a go at Harry as well as Sirius. The dig made her still more determined not to allow the horrible woman depicted in front of her the gratification of making Harry any more miserable than she already had. Perhaps she could give Sirius some peace in death if his mother was finally banished from the house, once and for all.

Thoughts of Harry and Sirius incited strong emotions that were constantly near the surface ever since Sirius had died and she felt a faint stirring within her, as if the surges of grief and protective instinct were awakening something. It caused her to hesitate before answering, and look down briefly at herself. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, but feeling a type of warm strength taking hold, she looked back into the eyes of the portrait.

"I believe that will be a much shorter time than you think, Mrs. Black." Ginny was a bit shocked at the level of calm in her own demeanor; Weasleys were not generally the most emotionally restrained people the world had ever seen. _Mum, for instance_, she thought to herself. A wry hint of a smile flitted briefly across her features, and strangely, it bolstered her confidence.

"How dare you threaten me," Mrs. Black answered, her tone increasing in malice as she noticed the smirk flash across Ginny's countenance. "I know all about you. Pureblood though you are, consorting with my son and the Potter boy, their own little Muggle-loving whore to use as they please."

The warm stirring sensation was rising in her now. _What _is_ that!_ Though she knew they were groundless, each insult hurled at Harry or Sirius or her own expense made it stronger, but since it was not an unpleasant sensation, she remained outwardly still.

"Your soul is dark, Ginevra. I can sense it in you." The reference to her possession and struggle with Voldemort made the warmth burn within her now, filling her gut and rising through her chest as the demented woman carried on. Her fists were clenched at her sides as she fought to keep control. "Darkness lives inside of you, yet you try to fight it. Sirius fought it, the fool, and you see what became of him? Killed by his betters. The same will happen to you and your beloved Harry Potter."

The string of images brought on by Mrs. Black's words—The Chamber of Secrets, Tom Riddle, Sirius, Bellatrix Lestrange—fueled a fierce crescendo of the emotions already churning inside her and the last mention of Harry's possible demise incited such a violent flash of love and anger that Mrs. Black's eyes widened suddenly as Ginny shouted angrily back:

"HE'S _NOT_ GOING TO _DIE_!" As she shouted, Ginny felt the burning power within her explode, making her skin flicker with a strange glow, then an intense glow that turned into a bright flash and went out. It was pitch black again and—

BANG!

The life-size portrait slammed back against the wall, shaking the very foundation of the house. On impact, the painting went black, and the now-empty frame thumped to the ground. Ginny stood there, gaping at the area where the portrait used to be. She hadn't noticed the flicker or the glow of her skin as the power had been rushing through her, and the bright flash only in her peripheral vision; her gaze had been intent on the eyes of the woman before her, though she had flinched at the loud "bang" which had sounded like a canon had gone off right in front of her.

Time seemed to move in slow motion. She had no words to describe what happened to the actual painting of the dead matriarch, except to say that it had disappeared into blackness. She was still frozen when she heard people stirring from their beds and rushing downstairs to investigate the commotion. Ron was the first to come thumping down.

"Ginny, what the bloody hell is going o—" He stopped, noticing what remained of the painting. Fred and George arrived next.

"Ginny—"

"What—" The twins froze too. Bill, Remus, her father, and mother all arrived in rapid succession, though Ginny did not notice. She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and she jerked out of her trance-like state to turn and face the small crowd. With a wide-eyed, startled expression, she looked up at Remus, whose hand still rested on her shoulder. His face was kind as always, and she let herself relax a little.

"What happened?" he asked quietly. She looked from the faces of her brothers, to those of her parents, and back to Remus. She hesitated, turned to take one more glance at the frame, and attempted to answer.

"I don't know." She looked up at Remus with some confusion, and he nodded slightly in response.

"We heard shouting. Did she say something to you?" Remus always seemed to know the right questions to ask. _And he's so gentle. How could he possibly turn into a vicious, man-eating beast once a month?_ The thoughts flickered through the back of her brain. This was just the prompting she needed to tell the details of the events without getting caught up in the significance of what she had done.

"Well…" She paused, quickly organizing the sequence of events in her mind. "Er…I woke up from—I'm not sure exactly, it might have been a nightmare, but I couldn't remember. Anyway, I came downstairs for a drink, and nothing was out of the ordinary when I got to the kitchen. I got some pumpkin juice and put my glass in the sink, and then left the kitchen to go back to bed." She stopped for a second, and decided it would be easiest on her nerves if she just stared straight at Remus instead of glancing around at her anxious family members.

"When I came into the hall, I heard someone whispering or mumbling, and then I noticed that the curtains to the painting were open. It was really weird at first because I've never seen them open without her screaming bloody murder and insulting everyone." She closed her eyes as the insults ran through her head, swallowed, looked back at Remus, and continued: "I came up to the painting and she said something to me. That was even weirder, because she was talking quietly, using a normal voice. We had a bit of a conversation and she just kept saying things about Sirius and Harry and…and me, and I sort of blew up and yelled at her and then there was this loud 'bang' and the painting had turned black. Then the frame came unstuck."

She could see that Remus suspected there was more to it than that, but thankfully he did not press her. Briefly she wondered if he knew about other things she was keeping from her family. Her parents and her brothers seemed satisfied at this explanation, and Remus nodded as if he was, too. Not surprisingly, Fred broke the eerie silence.

"Well, I guess that takes care of that problem." Ginny scowled at her brother, who tilted his head and smirked back at her with pride. She stopped scowling and tried to shoot him a look of gratitude.

"If all it took was Ginny blowing a gasket, we could've had that blasted thing down ages ago!" Ron complained. Remus smiled. Convinced that her former professor was not going to let on about his suspicions, Ginny cracked a small smile in return. As the adrenaline that had been pumping furiously through her body began to fade, she noticed that she was physically exhausted. Her eyes drooped and she yawned, her posture slumping. Remus patted her back and said good night, and Bill helped her back up the stairs, following behind the others.

As she ascended, she glanced down the hall toward the kitchen, and saw Dobby standing in the doorway with a strange smile on his face—not the usual million-galleon grin, but a small, knowing smile—and a glimmer in his eyes. He nodded once at her, and for some reason that she couldn't explain, it comforted her, calmed her, and reassured her more than anything else could have at that moment. She gave him a small smile and a wave of recognition as she disappeared up the stairs and back to bed.

The next day Ginny didn't wake up until well after lunchtime, and even then she felt completely drained—both physically and magically. The latter was a new feeling; she'd never felt her magical power change or fluctuate before. Then again, she'd never expended as much energy as she had in that confrontation with the painting. Even at the Department of Mysteries a few weeks ago, she'd only been physically battered; her magic never faltered or felt like it might run out.

Frankly, the thought that her magic could be exhausted was a bit scary. As she lay in bed pondering her power and the extent of her strength, she turned her head toward the night table in search of a clock. What she found there instead made her sit up and gasp.

Her wand.

_I didn't have my bloody wand_. She looked around the room as if to find some sort of reasonable explanation for the fact that several hours ago she had demonstrated some intensely powerful magic _without her wand_. It was weird enough that she had been able to destroy and remove the painting when other, more mature, more powerful wizards had failed in the face of such dark magic, but to have done so without forethought, and without her wand?

_Crazy talk_, she thought to herself. _This is mad. Completely mad_. _What the hell is going on that I'm doing stuff only bloody Dumbledore can do?_ Fortunately, it appeared that no one but Remus had caught on to anything strange about the situation, and she hoped that her family hadn't noticed the absence of her wand. Fred or George might have, but she knew Ron wouldn't have. Remus would keep her secret, she knew. Remus was nothing if not discreet.

She got up and tied her hair back, quickly choosing something to wear for what was left of the day. She figured she ought to start studying since she had quite a bit more to do this year than she had in the past. She went downstairs to find something to eat, and found Winky, Remus, and her brother Bill in the kitchen. Bill and Remus were looking over paperwork of some type, while Winky was doing the dishes, presumably from lunch. Bill looked up first when she entered the room.

"Good morning, sunshine," he teased, grinning at her. She shot him a much-practiced glare.

"Well, some of us woke up in the middle of the night and had a rather trying encounter with the life-size painting of a heinous monster, so you'll forgive them if they wanted to sleep in." Bill chuckled and Remus looked up at her with a smile.

"It's already 2 o'clock, you know. Even Ron beat you down! First time I've seen him since he got here, practically," Bill teased. Winky hopped down off the stool she was standing on and trotted over to Ginny. Winky's temperament seemed to improve every day she was there helping. She smiled up at Ginny.

"Would Miss be liking some lunch? Dobby said Miss would be sleeping longer than the other Wheezys." Ginny liked that the elves singled her out specially. Even Ron was still "Harry Potter's Wheezy," instead of his own person.

"Yes, thanks Winky, I'm starving." She sat down at the table next to her brother and diagonal from Remus. "So what's this all about?" she asked, gesturing to the paperwork they had laid out before them. "Order stuff that I'm not allowed to see?" Remus smiled.

"Not really. It _is_ for the Order, but it's not something we have to keep from loyal supporters or future members," he said. Bill moved quickly to cover up the papers with his arms.

"Uh oh," he teased. "I guess we can't let Ginny see it." She scowled at him in response, pouting as only she could. Bill burst out laughing at her expression.

"Very funny, William. What is it this time, no girls allowed? Or is it only people who are lousy at Quidditch? Oh wait, Fred and George and Charlie are all way better than you, and I reckon Harry's dad was too. So that can't be it." Remus laughed harder. Bill smiled and shook his head.

"I know I'm too young, Mum only tells me so _every_ five minutes. I would say it's only for huge gits, but Remus here is in it and I actually _like_ him." By now Ginny was grinning at her brother, having thoroughly bested him in the teasing game. For his part, Remus thought it had been a long time since anyone had made him laugh like Ginny'd been doing for the past few days. He hoped she would have the same effect on Harry when he finally arrived, although he sensed that they had kind of an awkward relationship.

"All right, Gin, you win." He turned to Remus. "Man, good thing the little banshee's on our side, eh? I wouldn't want to get caught on the business end of _her_ wand." He smiled and turned back to his sister.

"And don't you forget it!" Ginny replied, as Winky brought her a plate with a roast beef sandwich, some chips, and a glass of pumpkin juice. "Thanks, Winky." The elf nodded and scurried back to her stool to finish the dishes.

"Ginny, we're about done here, so when you're finished eating would you mind helping me with something upstairs? Bill's got to leave soon," Remus asked. Ginny nodded as she swallowed a bite of food.

"Sure. Where are you going, Bill?"

"Gringotts. I have to put in an appearance, you know, pretend I actually work there once in a while."

"Helping Fleur with her Eeeeeng-lish?" Ginny teased, her eyebrows raised with implication. Bill chuckled.

"Yeah, something like that." Ginny nodded in approval as Bill collected the papers on the table and stood up. "See you later, munchkin. Bye Remus." Ginny kissed her brother on the cheek, Remus waved, and Bill left. At some point Winky had finished the dishes and disappeared. Ginny turned to Remus, at last able to speak candidly in the now-empty room.

"You don't really need my help with anything, right? You want to ask me about what happened last night." There was more clarification than question in her voice, and no denial that anything strange had occurred. He nodded.

"We should still probably go upstairs, though. I have been operating under the assumption that you would rather your family didn't find out just yet…." He trailed off, looking for confirmation.

"Thanks, Remus. After all the stuff that happened in my first year, I really hate having to deal with their overreactions. Mum, especially. She treats me like I'm six years old."

"I don't doubt it. You and Harry certainly seem to have that in common." He shook his head slightly in dismay. "The two of you have endured more than your fair share of sacrifice and hardship, certainly more than anyone should at your age. Come now, let's go have a chat, shall we?" Remus turned, and Ginny followed him up one flight and then down a hall to one of the many sitting rooms. He closed the door, and put silencing and imperturbable charms on the room to ensure their privacy.

After they sat down, she recounted to him the sequence of events from the night before, only this time, she included a full description of how she felt as her conversation with Mrs. Black grew increasingly agitated. Then she told him how, when she awoke this afternoon, she realized that she hadn't had her wand and noticed the new feeling of being magically drained. He nodded in understanding and didn't interrupt or ask questions as she spoke, which she appreciated. _How he can be so agreeable after just watching his best mate die, I can't imagine_, she thought to herself as her story wound down_. He does look rather worse than normal, and the full moon is still a couple weeks off. _

_Bugger, I bet he isn't sleeping_.

Seeing him up close like this, and being able to get a good, long look at his face, revealed bags under his eyes and a paleness to his complexion that were uncharacteristic of him this far detached from the full moon. His face was gaunt, his eyes dark, and she vaguely remembered that he barely touched his food when she had eaten lunch with him the previous day. _Bloody Remus_, she thought. _I suppose Harry's going to look just as horrible when he arrives_. After she was finished speaking, he paused for moment in contemplation.

"So we've discovered that you can do wandless magic, and it seems to be triggered by, or at least connected in some way to your emotions." She nodded in agreement. "Would you mind if I spoke to Professor Dumbledore about this?" She shook her head. "Excellent. I understand he is already working on something else for you, besides the project with Dobby and Winky."

"Yeah." She had already told him about the wandless magic, what would it hurt to tell him about her plan for the O.W.L.s? "I've secretly arranged to take three of my O.W.L.s early, just before the Christmas holiday. If I get good enough marks, I'll move into the sixth year N.E.W.T. classes for them once we return in January. Only the twins and Dumbledore know. And now you." Remus showed a rare look of being surprised and impressed.

"Really? What subjects are you taking early?"

"Defense, Potions, and Transfiguration."

"Not the easy classes," he remarked.

"No, I would not categorize Potions with Professor Snape or Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall as easy classes," she replied, with a knowing smirk.

"And Defense?"

"Well, Defense is brilliant. Definitely easy for me, definitely my favorite class. I'm best at hexes," Remus smiled at this comment and knew all too well the truth of it from when he taught her in her second year, "and growing up with six older brothers has made me more…er…durable, I guess."

"You get good marks in all your classes, then?"

"Yes. Top in my year in those three and Care of Magical Creatures, second in Charms. My friend Luna is first in Charms."

"Luna Lovegood, who went with you lot to the Department of Mysteries?" Remus' expression darkened ever-so-slightly as he mentioned the battle where Sirius had been killed, but it was gone quickly.

"Yeah. She's kind of spacey and a bit odd, but she's smart and perceptive. She gets picked on at school, but we've always been friends, and I expect we'll be a lot closer now. Ron thinks she's a nutter, and Hermione disapproves of her day-dreaming, but that's because my brother's a git and Hermione doesn't believe anything that she can't read about in a book. I think Harry appreciates her, though. She knows a bit about death—her mum died when she was little—and she's a loyal friend. She's in Ravenclaw." Remus nodded.

"If you don't mind me asking, why did you decide to take these three O.W.L.s early?"

"Well, for one thing, I want to learn as much as I can in Defense. I'm sure I haven't seen the last of Voldemort, and I want to be prepared. I already learned most of the fifth year stuff in the D.A., and I don't want to waste a whole year's worth of training I could be getting with the older kids. I hope Harry keeps up the D.A. this year, because that'll help with all the extra studying I'll have to do. And I guess I just figured that since I was going to take one early, why not do the same with two more of my best subjects? If I'm going to have any more run-ins with Death Eaters, I reckon it wouldn't hurt to know more about Transfiguration or Potions. In all three classes I get better marks than Hermione did, and I'm better at the practical application than she is in Defense and Potions. The only exception is that I haven't conjured a corporeal Patronus yet. But that was before I could do wandless _bleeding_ magic, so who knows what will happen when I get back to Hogwarts." Remus nodded.

"I like Potions a lot, even if Snape—" Remus made to scold her at the lack of respect shown to the mean-spirited Potions Master and she swiftly corrected herself. "Er, _Professor_ Snape—is the teacher. It drives him mad though, because I do so well in his class, but I'm not a suck up like Hermione so he can't contrive a reason to dock me points."

"You don't sound particularly fond of Hermione. I thought you two were good friends?" Remus asked, with genuine curiosity.

"We _are_ friends, and we get along well enough, I guess. Sometimes you just _need_ to talk to another girl. But we certainly wouldn't be this close if it weren't for my brother. I used to confide in her, but once I realized that I would never be a part of what they have, I don't do that anymore. She still tells me secrets now and then, but I think it's mostly because she doesn't feel like she can talk to the boys about certain things. Frankly, it's more a friendship of convenience, than anything else. We don't hang around each other at school very much anymore.

"Our personalities are very different. I inherited my sense of humor from Fred and George. She barely has one. I love Quidditch as much as the boys do, but she only goes to the games because her friends play. She's pushy. She's patronizing. I reckon she's pretty insecure about being Muggle-born, so she's always trying to prove that she can do magic just as well as the next witch, but I can't stand how she goes around spouting off every 12 seconds. And she just _doesn't_ know when to let up on Harry."

Remus was intrigued by the change of subject to Harry—he wondered what Ginny thought about him, and how she dealt with being on the outside of the trio. He had never seen Ginny talk at length, certainly not as much as she was talking now, but he was pleased that she felt she could trust him with things she obviously hadn't been open to telling other people. He supposed that her friendship with Sirius had grown out of conversations like this one.

"Certainly before we went to the Department of Mysteries, but even now, she's still a bit naïve. You're a werewolf. You've been one since you were a kid, so you didn't get anywhere near a normal childhood. I don't think I need to tell you that when you're possessed by a dark wizard for a whole year as a child, you nearly kill four students without being able to stop yourself, and then nearly get your soul stolen as you watch your brother's best friend fight a bloody basilisk, you get jaded pretty quick.

"And Harry's had to deal with V-Voldemort even more than I have, so he's even more cynical than me. When Harry tells them about the things he's got to deal with, I suspect that Ron freaks out and suggests running to Dumbledore, and Hermione probably runs to the library and then suggests running to Dumbledore. But the way to deal with his fears and emotions isn't going to be in a book, and it's not going to come from an old guy who, no offense to the headmaster, can't relate to him in the slightest. No wonder Harry was on the verge of a nervous breakdown all year. He didn't have anyone to talk to who wouldn't drive him crazy."

"But it sounds like he could have talked to you."

"Yeah, well, that gets complicated."

"Complicated? How so?" _He's really going to make me say it?_ Remus waited, looking at her expectantly…and knowingly. _Yes, he's going to make me say it. Bastard._

"Um…well, I sort of used to have this huge crush on Harry, and it was pretty obvious. I mean, he was always nice to me despite the fact that my infatuation was the root of numerous instances of embarrassment, but it sort of meant that we didn't really become friends. I got over it in third year and started dating this other bloke, and last year we kind of began to be friends, since I could finally talk to him without blushing, knocking over my porridge, or completely humiliating myself in some other fashion." Remus smiled.

"I see. But now you _are_ friends?"

"Sort of, I guess. I mean, obviously I'm not going to break into the trio, and it's not like we'd write to each other or anything. And Harry, understandably, has pretty deep trust issues, so I don't exactly expect we're going to be best pals and confidantes, you know? And…ah…well, now it's going to be even worse, because…" Ginny was hesitant about mentioning Sirius to Remus. "Um, because—"

"Because Sirius is gone?"

"Yeah." They sat in silence for a bit, pondering what state Harry might be in, alone, at the Dursleys of all godforsaken places.

"I'm sorry, Remus," Ginny said after a while. Remus appeared to jerk himself out of a trance at the sound of her voice. He gave her a sad smile that didn't even attempt to reach his eyes.

"Don't worry about it."

"No, I mean, I'm _sorry_. You lost your best friend for the second time. I can't imagine that. I don't even _have_ a best friend, but just the thought of it makes me feel ill." Her voice dropped. "It's not fair," she observed, miserably. She stopped and wiped threatening tears out of her eyes, beginning to feel a warm force gathering in her gut. _Easy, Ginny_. "Look, I know you don't need to hear this from some 14 year-old girl." Her voice was much quieter now. "I don't pity you and Harry, please don't take this the wrong way, it just makes me so _angry_."

She suddenly felt tired, barely aware of Remus watching her thoughtfully as she tried to calm herself down. _Don't want to accidentally make the chair explode or anything_. She knew she couldn't control her newly discovered power, and she wasn't going to take any chances.

"Are you feeling all right? You sort of trailed off, there."

"Yeah, it was the same kind of feeling as last night. Guess I feel pretty strongly about this stuff, huh?" Remus paused meaningfully, gazing at Ginny as if he were trying to gauge how she would react, like he was deciding whether or not to tell her something.

"Well, I think you feel pretty strongly about Sirius, and I think you feel pretty strongly about Voldemort hurting the people you care about, but mainly I think you feel pretty strongly about Harry." Her head shot up in surprise, and she couldn't quite master her face well enough to conceal the flash of a wide-eyed expression that screamed, _guilty as charged_.

"I don't know what you mean." Remus shot her a patronizing look.

"I think you do. And I think you're just what he needs. But you're going to have to be extremely patient with him." Ginny's stony expression softened. _It's not like he believed my bad lie anyway_.

"I know. Believe me, I know." She sighed. _Cho bloody Chang_. Yes, she would be patient. This was never something she actually believed would come true, let alone quickly. No, she was in it for the long haul, and she had resigned herself to it a long time ago. In fact, the only reason she had been able to say "yes" to Michael Corner was because her feelings for Harry had become this steady constant in the background of her life, only coming to the surface when he was in distress or she was angry at him.

Of course, this was the result of much practice and study of her own behavior. She had always been a pretty good liar, especially to people who didn't observe her very closely, and she rightfully assumed that her brother and his two best friends did not. That's where she'd gone wrong with Remus. Here she was talking to him one-on-one, and he was more perceptive than most people to begin with. _Must be those super werewolf senses_. It worked both ways, though; she doubted anyone but Dumbledore would have noticed Remus' deteriorating state like she had.

"Well, don't worry. I won't say a word. Did Sirius know?"

"I think he did. He never came out and asked me bluntly like you did, but we would talk late at night, and sometimes we talked about Harry, and he used to look at me in a way that made me think he knew." _I miss him so much_.

"He really liked you." This comment made Ginny smile, though it was a sad one. "After you lot went back to school he talked about you almost as much as he talked about Harry." She looked Remus in the eye.

"Thanks, Remus. For listening. And for telling me that." She paused for a moment, and then on an impulse rose from her seat and crushed her former professor into a hug. _He's going to think I'm such a baby_, she thought. _Ah well, it's not like I'm not used to embarrassing myself, now is it? And frankly, he looked like he could use one_. He returned the embrace and she sobbed for a bit, and was glad to, for her own piece of mind, but also because it gave him the cover to do the same if he wanted. After she had calmed down a little, she slowly pulled back and tucked a loose strand of hair back behind her ear.

"I should go study," she said. "I have a lot of work to do between now and Christmas." Her eyes were bright and her mouth quirked slightly as if it were moving toward a grin, but didn't quite get there. He gave her a small smile in return. This time, however, there was no sorrow in their expressions.

They had come to an understanding. With Sirius gone, they were the only ones left who understood the pain and anguish that Harry was experiencing, the only ones left who loved him first and foremost, without competition, without fear or restraint. They found comfort in each other, in the knowledge that there was at least one other person they could trust to look after him, to put his interests, his happiness, above everything else. They had no split loyalties; they were just for him.

In the days that passed between her conversation with Remus and her triumph in the game with her brothers, Ginny did a lot of thinking. And a lot of homework. Charlie was back in England now, in and out of headquarters as often as Bill. It was a great comfort to Ginny having her two oldest brothers back with the family again—especially since the third one still had not come home.

Percy had never been her favorite brother. He spent more time scolding her than playing with her, usually shrugging her off instead of humoring her or helping her like the others did. She couldn't say that she actually missed him, which was kind of a horrible thing to admit, but what _did_ anger her was the distress his estrangement was causing the rest of her family. It obviously upset her parents—_As if Mum and Dad needed more to worry about_—and she had been surprised to see her remaining brothers react so violently at his desertion.

Fred and George had always been hardest on Percy, who from quite early on had been a bit of an outcast in the family, and Ron had taken a lot of his direction from the twins, since they had been at home longest of all his other brothers. Ginny was irate mostly because he had deserted eight people who never would have dreamt of deserting him.

That meant he wasn't loyal, and if Weasleys were anything, they were loyal. Their family stuck together. They could never count on money, or material things, but they could always count on each other. And Percy had marred that sacred family tradition. _Idiot_. Add to that the stuff he had written about Harry, and his support of Dolores Umbridge, _Foul woman_, and, well, she wasn't sure if the four youngest Weasleys would ever be able to forgive him.

Having Charlie home was brilliant, though. They talked about Quidditch, of course, and Charlie expressed his pride at his baby sister's 2-for-2 record in catching the Snitch. He had been the one who taught her how to fly when she was six, though no one knew. He had kept it a secret all these years at her request, and once he had gone back to Hogwarts, she had taken to stealing her other brothers' brooms to practice with.

It was a curse of birth that forced her to wait so long to try out for the Gryffindor House team. The three veteran Chasers they had from her first year onward would have prevented her from trying out until this coming year if Harry hadn't been banned for beating the crap out of Malfoy. She only regretted that Harry hadn't seen her grab—steal, really—the Snitch from Cho Chang in the final match that won them the Cup. She'd seen Charlie play at Hogwarts a couple times, but she had been very small, so she couldn't really judge whether her brother or Harry was the better Seeker.

The twins stayed over at headquarters less often. They had fixed themselves a place to sleep at the shop, and would often crash there after working late, whether for the Order or for the future troublemakers of Hogwarts. But they still remained her confidantes. Until her discussion with Remus, they were the only ones other than Dumbledore who knew about her plan to take some of her O.W.L.s early, and they had even offered to buy her the sixth year books she would need if she passed.

They were the only other people she told about the wandless magic she had done on the painting, and they were the only ones she had informed of her most recent accomplishment with Dobby's help. Though, if Remus hadn't been out of communication at present due to the full moon, she would have told him as well.

She suspected that being able to control and direct her wandless power would induce yet another private discussion with Dumbledore, and she was relieved at the thought. It was a curious thing already that she had not received any type of notification from the Ministry of Magic—did it mean that she had a special brand of magic that couldn't be detected?

Or perhaps the Ministry had bigger fish to fry at the moment. After all, there were rumors that Magical Britain would be electing a new leader soon, and with the growing chaos over Voldemort's return—yes, it was _Voldemort_ now, not You-Know-Who—they couldn't possibly be devoting many resources toward scolding harmless kids for underage magic.

But her questions ran further than how she got away with breaking the law. Why was her power just manifesting itself now, instead of when she first started at Hogwarts and learned to properly use a wand? Why did emotion seem to have so much to do with it? Why could she feel it brewing and gathering inside her when there was no sensation if she used a wand? And the question she dreaded most of all, did these extraordinary powers have anything to do with Tom?

She remembered well the explanation Dumbledore had given for Harry's ability to speak and understand Parseltongue. Could Tom Riddle have left remnants of himself in her as well? After all, her exchange with Voldemort had been much more intimate than Harry's. Her soul had been drawn out of her, and Tom's had been poured in—what if it couldn't all get back out again when Harry destroyed the diary?

She couldn't deny that there had been a dramatic improvement in her marks between her first and second years at school. True, her schoolwork in first year had been negatively affected by her possession, but hadn't Tom Riddle been a right genius of a student? To go from very poor marks in her first outing, to top of the year in her second, required a better explanation, she thought.

She was sometimes surprised and even self-conscious at the intuitive knowledge she had in certain subjects. Almost like she had _already learned things_ and was merely revising when topics were first introduced in her classes. She wasn't complaining, because it was wonderful that school came so easily to her; but once in a while it was a bit scary.

_Damn these bloody safety precautions against owling. Stupid Death Eaters_. She was really anxious to speak with the headmaster, but it would surely induce suspicion if Lucius Malfoy were to find out that the girl Voldemort had possessed a few ears ago was specially owling Dumbledore over the summer holiday. No, she would have to be patient.

She didn't mind all the studying so much, but it was frustrating that she couldn't practice the spells and jinxes. She supposed she could try them wandless, but she didn't want to push the envelope as far as the Improper Use of Magic Office was concerned, and, to be honest, she was more than a little nervous about doing anything with her new power until she had consulted Dumbledore about its origin and nature.

Plus, it wasn't like she could just do all her work wandless at school. Her newly discovered abilities were not something she wanted the general public to be aware of. So back to work she went, memorizing potion ingredients and trying not to think about her magic—or the fact that Harry was coming tomorrow.

Harry was due late the next day, and Hermione had arrived last night. Hermione's arrival was the main reason she had been left in peace to study, since her brother had gone off with the older girl for most of the day, no doubt to confer on how to deal with Harry. _Funny that they wouldn't think to seek out the one person who might have insight into the subject_, she mused with a touch of bitterness.

She was used to it, though. Harry himself had forgotten last year that she could be a knowledgeable source on the subject of Voldemort. Well, for now that suited her just fine, thank you. The less time she spent in the presence of Ron and Hermione—especially Hermione—the less opportunity there was for them to get suspicious about all the homework she was doing, and the less likely they were to ask questions she didn't want to answer.

Hermione had been shocked and excited over the transformation Dobby and Winky had achieved with the house—though Ginny'd had to set some ground rules about the house elves and trying to give them clothes. Dobby already had clothes, of course, but Ginny made it quite clear that if Hermione pestered Winky, who was technically there at Ginny's personal request, Ginny would hex her into next week, Bat-Bogey style, Mafalda Hopkirk be damned.

Ginny had never been reprimanded for using her wand outside of Hogwarts, and knew from Harry and her brothers that the first infraction was only a warning anyhow. Hermione took this under consideration and wisely agreed to leave Winky alone.

Surprisingly, Hermione had not noticed the lack of screeching or the absence of the painting. _Probably too caught up in worrying about Harry_, Ginny reasoned. She hoped Hermione would bring it up privately with Ron so that she could avoid talking about it. If anyone was going to blow her cover, it was going to be Hermione. Nobody else was as nosy or naturally skeptical as Hermione, whose knack for figuring out puzzles was Ginny's greatest obstacle until they got back to Hogwarts.

As for her other secret, Ginny wondered if Hermione wouldn't get suspicious that she was doing her summer homework so diligently. Usually, she put it off until the last few days like the boys did. She hoped that the excuse of it being her O.W.L. year would be sufficient to expel any circumspection on Hermione's part.

She heard her mother calling her down to dinner, marked her place in the Potions text she had been consulting, and went downstairs to eat. It was an odd sort of showing for dinner; Ron and Hermione were there, of course, Charlie was home, Tonks was seated next to him, and Remus appeared to have returned from his transformation.

He looked wretched, but then, he usually did after the full moon. Her mum's cooking would help remedy that, no doubt. There were two empty seats left at the table, as she seemed to be the last one to arrive in the kitchen. She took the one next to Charlie, and he ruffled her hair a bit in greeting.

Ginny was about to scold him for his gesture, when the flames in the fireplace flared green, and Dumbledore strode out.

"I wondered if I could join you for dinner," he said, though it was less a question than a statement of the reason for his arrival.

"Of course you can join us! There's an empty seat right here, next to Ginny," her mother replied, indicating the chair Ginny had rejected a few seconds before. Dumbledore came around the table and sat down beside her, greeting Remus, who sat on his other side, and then turning to Ginny.

As the food got passed around the table and people began loading their plates, there was sufficient murmur and conversation that Dumbledore could speak to her without attracting attention. He leaned over to whisper in her ear.

"Dobby has informed me that you have been displaying some new and interesting abilities." Ginny's mind leapt in relief and a certain measure of excitement. She would get to talk with Dumbledore about her magic.

"Yes, sir. I was hoping I would be able to ask you about it soon. I'm quite glad you turned up for dinner. It's a relief that I won't have to wait until I go back to Hogwarts." Dumbledore smiled.

"Perhaps after dinner we could have another chat in the parlor." Ginny nodded.

"That sounds great. And we can bring Remus, too. He knows about it, and I actually need to tell him about this last time, since he was gone for the moon." Dumbledore nodded in agreement and turned back to his plate.

A lively supper passed, and as soon as they cleared their dishes, Ron and Hermione excused themselves to go confer some more before bed. _Right, because they haven't been doing that every second of the whole day that Hermione's been here_. Not that Ginny particularly minded this time, since she was going to be doing some conferring of her own—and with much more interesting accomplices, if she did say so herself.

Deciding that they required more privacy than they had for their last conversation, Ginny suggested they use the study near Remus' room. They went in, shut the door, and Dumbledore proceeded to cast all the same privacy charms that Remus had when he and Ginny had talked about her magic before.

Ginny brought Dumbledore up to speed with what Remus knew about the painting, and then she told them both about the game she had been playing with her brothers. Dumbledore's eyebrows rose when she described the same warm, faint tingling sensation in relation to the joke she played with Dobby that she had for the incident with Mrs. Black's depiction.

And as news to both men, she explained her suspicions about her dramatic academic improvement following the year of her possession. As she spoke, Remus looked like he might have formed some theories, but he seemed content to wait and hear what Dumbledore had to say.

Ginny had not been nervous with Dumbledore since she was eleven years old. But as they sat there, in Sirius' house, in the early days of a war for their very existence—a lonely girl, a werewolf, and the greatest wizard of the age—Ginny could _feel_ the atmosphere change. And she became nervous.

As Dumbledore pondered what she had told him, his eyes never left hers. Powerful and influential adult wizards had been known to falter under the headmaster's gaze, but not Ginny. She was not afraid of him, but it was more than the fact that she trusted him with her confidences and, in some cases, her life.

She had seen what the world could throw at her, seen what evil it could do. She had spent a year of her childhood almost drowning in fear and now it seemed as though she had used up all the fear her mind could produce. There was very little, if anything, that could scare her now. The thought of losing her brothers? Of losing her parents or Remus? Of Harry dying? That scared her. But Voldemort himself did not.

Indeed, if anything, the only person she potentially feared was herself. Like Harry, she had acquired a matter-of-factness about things that would terrify other wizards and witches her age. Beneath her humor and wit, past her charm and athleticism, was a gravity and a knowledge of darkness that only Harry shared, perhaps Remus, too, and Sirius before he died.

Dumbledore's gaze was so penetrating, she felt like he was trying to get past all the sarcasm, the playfulness, the easy-going exterior, like he was checking something to see if she was really what he thought she was. The way he had always looked at her until now, as if they were sharing an exceedingly clever inside joke, was gone. In its place was an expression that emanated pride and sadness at the same time. It was a grave look, but not without a hint of triumph; yes, the sparkle remained.

Dumbledore turned briefly to Remus, smiled and turned back to Ginny. Ginny, who had been lounging unceremoniously in her high-backed leather armchair, sat up and crossed her legs, because it appeared the old professor was about to speak.

"It seems that Voldemort, not unlike most of your brothers, may live to regret the day he foolishly chose to get on the wrong side of Ginny Weasley." The headmaster had taken on a mischievous look, which had the wonderful effect of comforting Ginny immediately.

Perhaps a result of growing up with the twins, she always felt better when there was a scheme, a plan, or the potential of one—whether it was for a childish prank or a war to defeat a dark wizard—a plan meant there was _hope_, a chance of triumph, no matter how small. Dumbledore looked as though he had found a secret weapon, and that was all the hope Ginny needed to be going on with.

"Fifteen years ago he paid the price for underestimating Harry and another red-haired young woman, not too much older than you are now. For his misjudgment he was thrown into ruin and he saw his flawless plan backfire when Harry survived and retained some of his own abilities. I believe he will also come to see his error in underestimating you and Harry when he tried to kill the two of you in your first year. It appears that he will soon see that plan backfire as well."

"When Lucius Malfoy planted Tom Riddle's diary in your book at Flourish and Blotts four years ago, I doubt he recalled that you are the first female child to be born into the Weasley family in quite some time, though I'm sure he knew in some distant part of his mind. Six generations passed without a single girl, but in the seventh, finally, you arrived. There are legends that describe situations similar to yours, where magical families carried on for several generations without producing a daughter, though none have been recorded in the last thousand years. The gist of these stories is that the eventual witch who followed generation after generation of sons was endowed with extraordinary magical powers, almost as if the magic in that one daughter was making up for all the generations where no daughters were born.

"There is no firm evidence, but for a long time I have believed that the magical powers residing in witches and wizards are of fundamentally different natures. Magical blood is all the same in its makeup; the only variation is non-magical, or Muggle in character. But I think the traits that distinguish witches from wizards, women from men, unlock only the magical powers and abilities that accord to their gender. For example, why wasn't it James' blood that saved Harry? Why was it Lily's, his mother's? My hypothesis is that, when several generations pass without a daughter, the female magic in that family's blood builds upon itself as it is not utilized by the offspring. So, by the time a daughter is finally born into the family, the power of multiple generations of witches has accumulated and will manifest itself in that one child. In other words, you."

Ginny gaped like a fish. Remus looked intrigued.

"My theory is bolstered, I believe, by your description of the wandless magic you have performed this summer. Each time you have felt the powers rise, it has come from your lower abdomen, your hips and pelvis. The single most defining feature of a woman is her ability to bear children, her reproductive system; I do not think it is a coincidence that the locus of both your defining female element and the origin of your extraordinary power are the same place. You may wonder why you have seen no evidence of these abilities until now. I believe that it didn't reveal itself until you hit adolescence because only then would your uniquely female characteristics have begun to mature.

"Further, it is a well known stereotype that women are rather more emotional or more emotionally conscious than men; but all stereotypes have an element of truth in them. Again, it is no wonder that your power greatly increases when you are feeling more emotionally charged. I will use Harry's parents as an example a second time: It was Lily's love for her son that saved him. I have no doubt that James loved Harry quite as much as Lily did, but once more, why was it only Lily's love that triggered the protection? As I have admitted, I have no hard evidence. But I believe this explains the basis of your abilities with wandless magic and your remarkable skill with normal magic.

"I say all this by way of preface. I think Lucius Malfoy picked you because he dislikes your father and your family. I don't think he ever would have conceived of the possibility that you would be able to fight Tom's possession of you for the length of an entire school year. That fact alone—especially that you were able to rid yourself of the diary altogether, even for a short time—was evidence of the depth of your magical ability. Also, of your innate goodness. And it was that notion that prompted me to research my theory further and stay in contact with you throughout your time at Hogwarts. That aside, I think your intuition about your enhanced academic abilities is probably correct. While your blood and family background would have made you a top student anyway, I do believe Tom left some of himself behind in you when Harry destroyed the diary.

"Now, it remains to be seen whether any of your traits were left in him when your souls reverted back to your bodies, but as you haven't displayed any of the symptoms that Harry has—like the visions of your father being attacked and the Department of Mysteries—I don't think your experience with Tom Riddle forged the same kind of active connection. After all, you dealt with a preserved memory so you only took on traits of Tom Riddle when he was still a student at Hogwarts; Harry's connection was the result of direct contact with the contemporary Tom Riddle, who is an accomplished Legilimens, and much better versed in ancient magic, the Dark Arts, manipulation, and evil. Though I do suspect that you have retained the ability to speak Parseltongue, and I would not be surprised to learn that you have a high aptitude for Occlumency.

"But, more importantly, it means that you have an advantage that Harry does not: knowledge. You remember the things Voldemort told you, the things he showed you in that diary. But as it was only his memory preserved in the diary, and since Harry destroyed it, he cannot access any recollection of the same period. You can tell him things that no one else knows, save perhaps Harry and myself; this is a weakness that he doesn't know he has. On the other hand, he knows nothing about you, I daresay."

Ginny was trying to process all this new information, which wasn't a simple task when you felt like your entire world was being rocked violently from side to side. Yet, it hadn't exactly been a surprise, had it? She'd always thought there was more to her top marks than met the eye. And her intuition that there was something special about being the only girl amidst all those boys had just been vindicated by Dumbledore's theory. She chanced a look at Remus, who was giving her an appreciative, but studying look.

"All right," she said, trying to get her bearings in the conversation. "I guess I'd like to take lessons on how to control my magic, if there's someone who could teach me." Dumbledore nodded.

"Yes, I believe that could be arranged. We wouldn't want you terrorizing the portraits at Hogwarts, would we? I believe Mr. Filch would be quite upset if you did." Remus and Ginny both smiled at this, though only Remus had any personal experience with the grouchy old caretaker.

"I'd also rather you didn't mention this to anyone else…except for Professor McGonagall, I suppose—" She paused. "—and Professor Snape. I assume they already know about the O.W.L.s I'm taking early." Dumbledore nodded to confirm her assumption. "I don't think I would mind if you decided you needed to tell them about this as well."

"Thank you, I will bear that in mind as circumstances arise. Now, I believe we ought to adjourn our discussion until you return to Hogwarts. I will leave directly from this room so that you will be able to come up with a plausible excuse for what you were doing all this time." He turned to Ginny. "Would you mind very much to keep up your habit of informing Remus if you have any more experiences with your wandless powers? I would like to know exactly what we are dealing with when you arrive in September, and Remus will know how to get in touch with me."

"That's fine. Thank you, Professor Dumbledore. I really appreciate all your help." She shook his hand, as she always did. The first time was after she and Harry had escaped from the Chamber of Secrets and he had come to speak with her in the hospital wing, and she had only done it because she didn't think it would have been appropriate to hug him. Ever since then, he had always seemed amused that she did it, so she kept up the habit.

"Not at all. Goodnight, Miss Weasley. I'll speak to you soon, Remus,"

"Goodnight, Professor," Remus replied. And he was gone. Ginny loved that Remus and Sirius had always called him _Professor_ Dumbledore when addressing him; it reminded her of all their stories about getting into trouble when they were at Hogwarts. She turned to Remus.

"I better get to bed or Hermione will get suspicious."

"Quite understandable."

"I'm going to go mad, you know, not being able to practice any magic until September." Remus chuckled.

"Yes, I know. Perhaps we could arrange something for your birthday. Maybe a trip to Hogwarts to practice your Patronus?" Ginny's eyes lit up.

"Oh, would you? I would appreciate it if you could."

"I will see what I can do." Ginny beamed, and hugged him impulsively for the second time that summer.

"You are bloody _brilliant_, Remus, do you know that?" When she had pulled away, he was jolted by the memory of another feisty redhead who had said the very same thing to him a long time ago. He smiled sadly at the memory. Ginny had reached the door and interrupted his nostalgia.

"Goodnight, Remus."

"Goodnight, Ginny."

As Remus succumbed once more to memories of his best friend's wife and Harry's mother, Ginny found her way to the bedroom she shared with Hermione. The door was closed, and when she opened it without knocking, she saw the two older kids turn around abruptly and hush up their earnest conversation.

"Oy, you think you could learn to knock?"

"Oy, you think you could talk in your room? It's not like Harry's going to be in there to hear you gossiping about him anyway." Both Ron and Hermione gaped back at her with red cheeks and wide eyes. _Ha. Look at them. Thinking they were being all sneaky and secretive. I can't decide which one is a worse liar. How they ever get away with stuff at school_…

"What did you hear?" Ron demanded, accusingly.

"Nothing, you great git, but it's obvious you're talking about Harry. Is he still being short and evasive with you?" Ron and Hermione exchanged a look that confirmed Ginny's hunch. "Just wait until he gets here in a few days and see how he is before you go on making up your plan of attack. But please, try not to nag him. He's probably looking forward to seeing you, but he'll close right up and get angry if you insist on asking him about his feelings." She looked right at Hermione as she said this.

"Well, _I _think he needs to talk about what happened with Sirius, and I know he hasn't been able to talk about it with anyone at the Dursleys," Hermione insisted. Ron looked as if he wanted to side with Ginny on this, but didn't want to suffer the consequences of disputing Hermione. _Well, if they ever get together, I think we all know who'll be wearing the pants in _that_ relationship._

"Fine, do what you want, just don't complain when he gets mad and shuts you out. Now, I'd like to go to bed, so if you wouldn't mind relocating 1996 Harry Potter Peace Accords into Ron's room, I'd really appreciate it."

As she changed into her pajamas and brushed her teeth, Ginny thought about how Harry had been acting after their excursion to the Department of Mysteries. She remembered quite distinctly that he hadn't just seemed like he was depressed about Sirius. He was distracted as well. And not because he was spaced out due to his grief; this was active preoccupation. His mood had consistently shifted between moping and deep thoughtfulness. Something had happened between the time he and Dumbledore had driven off Voldemort and when he had arrived in the hospital wing to see Madam Pomfrey.

Ron, Hermione, and Luna had all been asleep for a long time after they returned, and Neville had been quick to heal and quickly released. But Ginny had shattered her ankle and lower leg bone, not to mention suffering some nasty after-effects of the curse that one of the Death Eaters had blasted at her, and she had been awake when Harry arrived. He hadn't noticed that she was awake, but she'd watched him for a long time.

She tried to think what he could be so pensive about so soon after Sirius had been killed. No doubt he had been in Dumbledore's office before he arrived in the hospital wing. For the hundredth time since the actual events, she ran over the images from that day in her mind. _Let's see, we went to the prophecy room, and Harry found one with his name on it_…_and Voldemort's name was on it, too_…_and Lucius Malfoy had said that only Harry or Voldemort could retrieve it, because the prophecy was about them._ She thought for a moment, desperately trying to recall the other letters that had been written on the glass containing the prophecy. _It was S-something-something to A-P-something-something-something._

Well, the "to" probably meant who gave the prophecy and who heard it. But who the hell has five initials? Why would somebody need five names? It obviously wasn't Voldemort or any of the Death Eaters, because they had been trying to trick Harry the whole time so that he would retrieve it for them. _And Harry had sounded like he honestly had no idea what it was about_…

…was her last thought, as she drifted off to sleep.


	3. Growing Up Is Hard to Do

**CHAPTER 2**

**Growing up Is Hard to Do**

Dinner had come and gone hours ago. Ron, Hermione and the twins were all crowded around him, one by one giving him their individual greetings, but only after Mum had finished smothering him and offering him food. Ginny was standing in the background, leaning sleepily against the doorway that led from the foyer into the front sitting room, arms crossed haphazardly over her stomach. Remus, Tonks, Bill, and Moody had followed him in, and were spreading out around the fawning Weasleys and Hermione.

Clad only in a pair of Charlie's old boxers and a worn t-shirt that she had long ago inherited from Ron, her hair in a messy sort of bun near the top of her head, Ginny would have looked deliciously rumpled to any number of boys at Hogwarts. But currently she wasn't looking like anything to anyone, because no one had noticed she was there. She watched with some measure of satisfaction as his mind registered that the house had been dramatically altered and, for what seemed like the first time in months, she heard Harry Potter's voice.

"What happened to this place?" he asked, the shock evident in his tone.

"Ginny," Fred blurted out, and Harry's head jerked up toward Fred's face as if he was just remembering that she ought to be there as well. "She recruited a bit of help from Hogwarts." Harry still looked a bit startled at the new, bright demeanor of the house, though not too startled to notice what Hermione had not.

"Where's the painting?" he questioned. Hermione's face registered her own surprise at having overlooked such a detail.

"That was _all_ Ginny. No help on that one." George answered this time, shooting his sister a proud grin and a knowing look. George's glance caused Harry's head finally to turn in her direction, and she got a look at him for the first time.

At first he just stared, probably still trying to figure out how she had been able to defeat the painting. But then his eyes betrayed his grave and depressed countenance, looking her up and down as if seeing a teenage girl for the first time. _Bloody hell_. She could practically feel his gaze burning on her skin as it traveled slowly up and then back down again. And it felt _divine_. But that now-familiar force began to swell, and she battled to keep control—she couldn't give herself away, couldn't risk accidentally blowing up a lamp or something.

Ginny had hit puberty with a vengeance about half-way through her fourth year, and by now had more than caught up with Hermione in certain areas, though she had resigned herself to the fact that she would never be taller. The effect of the changes in her appearance was even greater, given the loose school robes and the ill-fitting, hand-me-down shirts she wore at Hogwarts, which covered her up all year long. Harry hadn't seen her in summer pajamas for quite some time.

He visually swallowed, but for all the chatter and commotion at his arrival, no one else seemed to have noticed his gaze lingering so indulgently on her. Except, predictably, for Remus. Remus' hand on Harry's shoulder caused the young man to jerk out of his gaze and look quickly up at his old professor, before blushing and turning back to Ginny.

"Hey, Gin."

"Hey, Harry." She smiled at him, trying to make him feel a bit less uncomfortable even as she fought to quell the wave of magic, now rising up toward her shoulders. _Get a grip, Gin_, she ordered herself silently.

As she began to study his appearance in an effort to gauge his level of emotional wretchedness, she felt a slight tug on the side of her shorts. _Oh merciful distraction_. The building magic immediately subsided. She looked down to find Dobby and Winky standing half-behind her. Ginny smiled and turned back to Harry.

"Harry." His gaze cleared and he looked her in the eye. She gestured with her head down toward the house elves and as his eyes found the two hopeful-looking creatures, he couldn't help but smile.

"They did most of the work on the house. Dobby insisted on helping, of course, and Winky, here, seems pretty happy to be working in a proper house again."

"Hi, Dobby. Hi, Winky," he said to his small friends, whose delight at seeing their favorite wizard was evident on their faces. He walked over next to Ginny as he greeted them.

"Harry Potter, sir! Dobby is so happy that he has come home!" _Home_. The word obviously had an effect on Harry, because he looked up at Ginny with a mixture of anxiety and hope in his countenance that made her heart clench. For a brief moment, he looked as though he might burst into tears, but it passed as quickly as it had come. _Oh, Sirius_. Ginny just smiled slightly, and nodded. Harry turned back to the elves.

"Thanks, you guys. The house looks beautiful."

He patted Winky affectionately on the head and shook Dobby's hand. Both were exceedingly pleased at this response, the former because she had found a master to adore, and the latter because he was treated as an equal by the wizard he loved. Harry stood up straight and turned to ask Ginny something, but he was suddenly assaulted (in every manner of the word) by Ron for a game of chess. Ginny took this as her cue.

"Good night, Harry. It's nice to have you home." At the sound of her voice, he had turned his head away from Ron.

"Night, Ginny." She turned around to walk up the stairs, but she could feel him watching her all the way up.

Once she was upstairs and out of sight, she halted abruptly and leaned her back against the wall, closing her eyes. _Get a hold of yourself_. She breathed deeply to calm herself down, but it felt as if there was no way to pacify her nerves after the way he had just looked at her. It was probably just hormones (on both of their parts) but when his eyes had traced the contours of her figure and lingered on her like that, she felt as if _she_ might explode instead of the usual random piece of furniture.

She knew that part of it was hormones, but the other part was magical power gaining strength within her. _Bloody brilliant_, she mused. Add physical attraction to the running list of feelings she now had to restrain until she got back to school. And as much as she couldn't deny her immense satisfaction at his reaction to seeing her, she refused to get her hopes up. Hadn't he always been dumb-founded by the physical appearance of Cho Chang? And damned if Ginny wasn't going to avoid ending up like her.

_At least I'm a better Seeker_, she thought.

Her nerves and internal magic now calm enough to be going on with, she turned and continued on up to her room. She had to get to sleep before Hermione came up for bed, else she face the Spanish Inquisition about the destruction of the painting.

Ginny was floating on the edge of consciousness, just beginning to perceive sunlight coming into the room. Taking in the warmth of her bed, she rolled over and opened her eyes, only to see a blurry clock. Now fully awake, she rubbed her eyes and made out the time: 10:23 a.m. She sat up, still ensconced in the covers, and examined the bedchamber she had appropriated for herself.

Hearing a small scuffling noise, she turned her head to find what appeared to be a kitten messing about on one of the freshly waxed hardwood floors of Spinners End, the main house of the ancient Potter estate, Harry's grandparents' house.

Well, Ginny supposed it wasn't so much theirs anymore, since they had died and left it briefly to Harry's dad, who had died and left it to Harry.

Except that Harry hadn't even known Spinners End existed until a few weeks ago, when Dumbledore had deigned to divulge the information. The fact that Dumbledore had known about it all this time without telling Harry was a conversation for another time, though Ginny could imagine how _that_ one would go (at least, from Harry's point of view).

Apparently, prior to Sirius' death, they simply couldn't find the place. Ginny figured that it was better protected than Grimmauld Place, considering the one person who _could_ find it hadn't even known it existed. But prior to the events at the Department of Mysteries and the revelation of Voldemort's return, there had been more pressing concerns for Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix than finding a big old family mansion.

That situation changed a few weeks after Sirius died. The circumstances surrounding Sirius' demise and the clean execution of his will proved to be more precarious than expected, particularly when Narcissa Malfoy (read: Lucius Malfoy) challenged the validity of Sirius' original inheritance, and thus Harry's as well. Due to this unwelcome development, Dumbledore arranged for Harry to locate his family's estate, with the intent of procuring a back up headquarters in the event that Grimmauld Place was lost to the Malfoys.

Even after Grimmauld Place was safely declared to be Harry's, the prospect of a second, secure, Order-friendly location was appealing. Recruiting for the Order became considerably easier once the Ministry acknowledged Voldemort's reincarnation. In combination with the broader concern for Harry's safety it seemed practical to have a more removed and exclusive safe-house for Harry that was separate from the main headquarters and primary stop-through for the Order.

The more extensive Order membership became, the more dangerous it was for Harry to be at Grimmauld Place. Though the Order took care not to extend invitations lightly, its senior members—particularly Dumbledore, Moody, and Remus—remembered that it had been betrayed before and were determined that Harry wouldn't suffer for it a second time.

The kitten was dark, slate grey, and was having it out with Ginny's slipper. It must have sensed her gaze, because it suddenly jerked around and gazed right back at her, forgetting about the slipper for a moment. Then it tore out of the room like its tail was on fire. Ginny shrugged and got up, heading down to the kitchen to see if Dedalus Diggle and her brother Bill were still eating breakfast.

Two Weasleys and a trusted Order member from the first war made up the human elements of the team who had volunteered to transform the house into a safe and presentable residence for its owner. Bill and Ded were there to analyze, repair, or enhance the wards and protective charms, while Ginny, Dobby, and Winky had become the ultimate domestic tag team.

Ginny much preferred working on Spinners End to the mess that Grimmauld Place had been when they tried to clean it up the summer before. It helped that the Potters hadn't been Dark Wizards. She and the elves had fashioned a mutually pleasing arrangement, where Dobby and Winky would do the cleaning, and Ginny did the decorating.

So why were these five entrusted with this particular job? Well, since Harry couldn't leave Grimmauld Place until Spinners End was ready, Ron and Hermione had insisted on staying there with him. Most of the other Order members that Harry knew well had other duties to tend to, and Bill was the top choice for securing the house, with his extensive curse-breaking experience. Ded had been in the Order before and could be trusted, he knew Harry, and he was particularly gifted with Charms, which was exactly what Bill needed in a partner for the task. Dobby and Winky were obvious choices because of their loyalty to Harry and the spectacular job they had done on Grimmauld Place.

Ginny had volunteered, knowing that otherwise she would be bored and often excluded by her brother and his two best friends. Plus, it sounded like fun. And she was skeptical of Dobby's taste in decorating, having seen his extensive collection of mismatched socks.

They had been there about two weeks, having left Grimmauld Place early the morning after Harry had arrived, and tonight Ginny would be trading Bill and Ded for Harry, Hermione, Ron, Remus, and her parents. That brought the total number of wizards who could gain entrance to Spinners End to ten, plus two house elves, though Tonks, Charlie, and the twins would undoubtedly be allowed to gain entrance at some point in the future.

Ginny was extremely proud of Harry (and relieved, to be honest) for demanding to be the Secret Keeper for his own house. She could sympathize with Harry's frustration at someone else constantly trying to run his life, and she thought it was a good sign that he still had the spirit to fight for something that was important to him. The best part was, Dumbledore couldn't let anyone in unless he ran it by Harry first.

She wondered what kind of excuse Dumbledore had given for keeping Harry's family home a secret. It certainly didn't look good that he only divulged it to Harry when he _needed_ Harry to find it. For all his alleged wisdom and experience, Dumbledore was rubbish when it came to dealing with Harry. Over the course of her fourth year, Ginny had heard (or overheard) Ron and Hermione's anxiety about how Harry's faith and trust in Dumbledore had begun disintegrate.

Ginny had done her best to make the place feel like Harry's home. She was especially proud of restoring and rearranging a large number of family portraits and lining the main hall of the house with them, so that on his way from his room to the kitchen or the dining room, Harry could follow the progression of those who came before him.

She tried to infuse the house with one theme more than anything else: family. The largest gap and most desperate desire in Harry's tumultuous life sprang from his lack of a family, and Ginny had tried to draw out evidence of his blood relations subtly (or not so subtly) in every room. The exceptions to this theme were his parents, whose pictures and memorabilia she confined to his and Remus' rooms.

There were more bedrooms in the house than Ginny could ever have imagined, but it was clear that the master suite was in the east wing, so that was where she situated everyone else as well. There were less bedrooms on that end of the house, but she thought that suited Harry just fine. He was a much more private person than the average teenage boy, and would not mind in the least if additional guests had to stay on the other side of the mansion.

The master suite was, predictably, enormous. Harry had his own, generously proportioned bathroom, two walk-in closets, and rather large sitting room all to himself. Since this series of rooms took up so much space, there was only enough area for three more bedrooms on the penthouse floor. The one bedroom adjacent to Harry's Ginny took for herself. The reason? Nightmares. Having had her share of them, she suspected that Harry must be humiliated by them, and probably not enamored of the prospect of anyone seeing him upset more than they already did.

In light of their similar sleeping patterns, she made the executive decision that she'd be the one to share a wall with him, so she would be the first one to hear him in the middle of the night and hopefully would be able to wake him up before anyone else was disturbed. She hoped that he wouldn't be as embarrassed about his nightmares and visions when she reminded him that she'd had some nasty ones of her own.

Ron and Hermione were to be placed directly across the hall from their best mate. She put Remus by himself on the floor just below them, and her parents on the floor below that. This, too, was a strategic move on her part. Obviously, she didn't want (and she figured Harry didn't either) any adults on their floor. But she thought Remus ought to be the closest, as he was the next logical person to be Harry's guardian after Sirius. And her mother was becoming a right pain in rear, so she would just have to deal with living two floors down.

Her own room was the smallest on their floor, but still more than twice as large as her room at The Burrow. She had decorated it simply, in Dutch blue and butter yellow. It added to the general lightness of the house, especially in comparison to Grimmauld Place. The best part was the large bay window and window seat, where she could lay about, read by the sunlight, and look out at the amazing view of the Atlantic Ocean.

The house was situated on the outer edge of a forest, on the western edge of Inis Meain, the middle island of the Aran Isles, off the west coast of Ireland, and provided a breathtaking view of the water. From her bedroom window, Ginny could tell that the house, for all its size, was well-hidden by the trees, but for the clean line of sight from the master suite to the ocean. As her room was adjacent to Harry's, she got to share in the magnificent view.

She had already unpacked and put her clothes in the bureau and the dresser, and her school books and materials lay about the desk and the room haphazardly. It wasn't messy so much as it was evidence that the room was lived in and comfortable.

But she had spent the largest amount of time and effort on Harry's room. With curtains and linens in deep Gryffindor crimson, a soft grey-colored couch in the sitting room, and more red in the bathroom, she thought she had made his private living space just the right mix of warmth and Harry-ness, with a masculine tone to it. Right above the head of his bed, she hung what she assumed was the only portrait that had ever been done of Mr. and Mrs. James Potter. They really were an exceedingly gorgeous couple and could not have been older than twenty in the picture.

She had discovered from Ded that she could stun a painting and it would revert to the stillness of a Muggle painting. She had decided it would be best do so for Harry's arrival; it would probably be hard for him to see it at first, let alone talk to it, so she would tell him he could simply _Ennervate_ it when he became comfortable with the idea.

Flanking the portrait were large, still pictures of Sirius and Remus. There were pictures of Harry and his friends spread out over the rest of the bedchamber, and a family photo of the Weasleys in the sitting room.

Upon sending Dobby to explore the house and the grounds, the elf had discovered two full and functional sets of Quidditch balls, and a collection of trophies, awards, brooms, and team photos that demonstrated the Potters to be a long line of brilliant Quidditch players. Since the sport was one of the few bright spots in Harry's existence, Ginny arranged for all the trophies and Quidditch paraphernalia to be brought up to his room and displayed in one of the outrageously large walk-in closets.

Taking a break to explore the awards herself, she had been pleased to notice that there were almost as many outstanding female Quidditch players in the family as male ones.

The next few days found Ginny studiously attending to her Potions and Transfiguration texts. She kept mostly to a small study she had discovered near Remus' room, out of the way and free from questions and dangerous emotions. She didn't avoid Harry, so much as she didn't go out of her way to see him. Ron and Hermione pretty much had a monopoly on his time, anyway, so it wasn't like she was missing any quality time.

She suspected that he wasn't being as forthcoming with feelings or information as Hermione would like—_Shocker, that_—because at meals there seemed to be a tension between them. Ginny noticed that Harry would never sit next to or across from Hermione, barricading himself between Ron, the twins, Charlie, Bill, Remus, and Ginny herself. And each day saw Harry's mood darken from the temporary joy she had seen in him the night of his arrival. That was probably inevitable, but Hermione's apparent nagging was only speeding up the process. Even his birthday hadn't been able to improve his spirits for very long.

At the moment however, early O.W.L.s and Harry Potter had been forgotten in favor of more mundane concerns. Ginny was rifling through her trunk trying to fish out all her uniform shirts for Hogwarts. Her mum had directed her to try them on so she would know if they still fit. Ginny had never had proper girls' blouses, always Percy's old ones, since he had the smallest build of all her brothers. It had never been a problem, at least until this spring, when she found them to be a bit too tight toward the top, and bunchy and unkempt at the bottom. She doubted that she would fit into them at all by now.

She tried them on, and sure enough, she could only button them half-way up. She wondered if she would be getting shirts from Ron or the twins this time, and cringed at how huge the shirts would be. Their arms were much longer than hers, and she would look ridiculous trying to tuck all that excess material into her skirt.

And it wasn't like she could inherit Hermione's old shirts, because…well, Hermione was quite a bit smaller than she was…at least, up _there_. Bugger that. She never asked for anything. This year, she would have her own shirts, for crying out loud.

Changing back into her t-shirt (an old Gryffindor Quidditch shirt of Charlie's), she grabbed the offending articles and went downstairs, coming across a small crowd in the kitchen. Hermione, Ron, Harry, the twins, and Remus were all sitting and standing around the table, apparently discussing the possibility of a trip to Diagon Alley once they received their Hogwarts letters. Mrs. Weasley was doing something at the sink.

"Mum," Ginny began.

"Yes, Ginny, dear?"

"I need new shirts. These don't fit anymore." Her mother finally turned away from the sink and eyed her daughter, then the shirts clumped in the girl's hand. She gave her daughter an appraising look, to which Ginny replied patronizingly, "I can't button them, Mum." Mrs. Weasley seemed to give in and turned back to the sink.

"I'll have to look at some of Ron's old ones next time I'm at the Burrow." Ginny's face fell and she did not notice the attention of every other person in the room, though it was now trained on her.

"But, _Mum_! Wearing Percy's was bad enough. Shirts for blokes aren't cut right! They're too long and there's way too much material to tuck in," Ginny pleaded.

"Percy's shirts always looked just fine. I'm sure Ron's old ones will suit."

"Mum, I need _girls'_ blouses, I'm telling you. Otherwise, I'll look ridiculous."

"You didn't look ridiculous last year," her mum reasoned. _Bloody hell, Mum!_ Ginny was starting to get agitated, and in anticipation of a row, Harry, Hermione, and Remus were starting to get uncomfortable. Ron and the twins, however, looked on with interest. It had been a while since the two Weasley women had gone at it, and now that Ginny was older, they were devilishly curious to see what would happen.

"Well, _that_ was before I got—" _breasts_. She cut herself off and tried desperately contain her exasperation. Mrs. Weasley turned around, looking at her questioningly. _I_ _hate you, Mum, I really hate you right now_. This was going to be humiliating. "Mum, can we talk about this in the other room?"

"No, just tell me what the problem is."

"_Mum_…" she whined.

"_Ginevra_," Mrs. Weasley said with a warning tone. She was getting mad, too, now, though Ginny couldn't conceive of what on Merlin's green Earth she had to be ticked off about. "All of your brothers have worn whatever they were given. I don't think it's too much to ask for you to do the same." _Bollocks_. She thought Ginny was embarrassed about being poor. _Honestly_. If only that were the reason.

"Mum, I _know_, I don't _care_ about having to wear hand-me-downs, but I'm a bloody _girl_! I can't wear boys' shirts! I don't see you wearing Dad's shirts, do I? Of course not! Because you're not a bloke! And in case you failed to notice, I'm going to be fifteen tomorrow and I'm not a _bloke_ either!" She was almost yelling, and on the word _bloke_ she had emphatically gestured at her chest area to drive home her point.

Her mother's face paled a bit at her outburst, and Ginny was jerked into paralyzing self-awareness by a strange, muffled noise of distress that she was pretty sure came from Harry. Or Ron. She wasn't sure. It could have been Remus.

The kitchen was filled with an awkward tension, and Ginny didn't dare turn around. If she had, she would have seen Harry trying to look anywhere but at Ginny, face flushed, plunging his hands into his pockets. Remus looked like he would rather be anywhere else in the world than in the kitchen just then, Ron was absolutely pink with embarrassment, and the twins and Hermione were desperately trying not to laugh. Mrs. Weasley cleared her throat and broke the horrifying silence.

"Well. Perhaps you have a point." Ginny shut her eyes in abject humiliation and nodded. _Could this get any worse?_ Yes, it could.

"Well, Ginny could have my old shirts," Hermione offered, most likely in an attempt to diffuse the situation. _Oh, Hermione. Why are you doing this to me?_ Yes, it could definitely get worse. Naturally, her mother failed to see the flaw in Hermione's plan. _Naturally_.

"Oh, thank you, Hermione, that would be very nice of you," Mrs. Weasley answered pleasantly. Ginny braced herself for the massive discomfort she knew was coming, and intervened.

"Except that…um…" She chanced a quick, apologetic glance at Hermione, but turned around before she could risk making eye contact with Harry.

"Except for what?" her mother pressed, sternly.

"Er, well, Hermione's shirts…wouldn't…um, fit." This had to be the most heinous experience of her life. Why couldn't they just look and see for themselves! Why was she the only one who saw the problem here? Anyone with eyes would easily see that there was no way in the name of Merlin and Agrippa that Ginny would ever fit into one of Hermione's blouses.

"I can't believe that her shirts would be too big for you…" This was painful. It was like watching a train wreck in slow motion and not being able to do anything to stop it. This time, Ginny couldn't keep the utter exasperation out of her voice.

"Mum, of _course_ they're not too big. If you just _look_ at us, you would see that I haven't been able to fit in one of her shirts since third year!" Ginny sighed, and her voice returned to normal. "I need new shirts. I don't _care_ if they're second-hand, you know I've never cared about that. But I can't wear boys' shirts anymore." And with that, she turned to walk out of the kitchen.

And ran straight into Harry.

_Bollocks_.

Apparently he had been frozen in discomfort from witnessing the discussion, and had not seen her coming. They were both startled (in addition to being completely awkward and embarrassed) and sprang away from each other as soon as they realized that they were in such close physical proximity. Ginny looked up just in time to see a mortified look on Hermione's face and identical, shit-eating grins on Fred and George. She got the hell out of there, dumping the shirts on a counter as she left.

Needless to say, when she went down for dinner, Ginny wore a sweatshirt. She took Hermione out into the hall and apologized for dragging her into that debacle of a conversation, but Hermione owned up to her own foolishness in even making her suggestion in the first place. From past years and attempts at borrowing each other's clothes, they had long known that Hermione's things didn't fit Ginny anymore. So no harm done.

Dinner was another matter entirely. She couldn't look at Ron, she couldn't look at Remus, and she thought briefly that she'd rather face Voldemort than look at Harry right then. Luckily, Hermione sat across from her, so they could talk and avoid eye contact with the boys, but the only other place Ginny could look was at the twins, who were still eyeing her with unabashed glee at her utter humiliation. She wanted to hex them into oblivion. She settled for just a glare. It was dinner time and violence would have to wait.

Fortunately, Remus was sitting next to Ginny and not across from her, so they could talk without having to make eye contact and being completely awkward. He leaned over and spoke in low tones that only she could hear.

"I have made arrangements for your birthday." Humiliation be damned. She turned quickly to look at him.

"Really?"

"Yes. Professor Dumbledore has arranged for us to use the Room of Requirement for a few hours. I figured you might like to work on some other things besides your Patronus." She grinned gratefully at him, momentarily forgetting her self-consciousness from earlier.

"Thanks, Remus! That's really the best birthday present I could ask for." He turned back to face his plate.

"Other than new shirts, I presume?" The smirk on his face was absolutely wolfish. _This is why he and Sirius were friends_, she mused. _Bastard_. But she was grinning. After all, she supposed it _had_ been funny if you weren't a participant. She couldn't really blame the twins for being amused, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to exact retribution on them for laughing at her expense. She turned and glared at Remus.

"How does one man get to be _so_ funny?" she retorted, dripping with sarcasm. Remus threw his head back and laughed heartily. Ginny snickered at his reaction. Everyone else turned to look at them, not at all used to hearing Remus laugh like that. As Remus calmed down, Ginny glared around the table, shooting her brother Ron a challenging, "What?" to which he shrugged and looked down at his plate. Ginny grinned and went on with her dinner.

After dinner, Remus explained to Ginny that Harry would be accompanying them to Hogwarts, because the headmaster needed to speak with the three of them before she would be allowed to work on her magic. Curious at the cause for their visit, Ginny nodded in assent and pondered the potential reasons as she dressed for bed. Remus hadn't seemed to know what the visit was about either, and so she hadn't asked him.

The next day, Ginny woke up smiling. She had been dreaming about Quidditch, more particularly about Chasing for a team wearing scarlet robes that looked remarkably like the Gryffindor House robes. They had been trouncing a "nameless" green squad, that she could only assume was Slytherin.

Harry had been Seeking, Ron had been playing Keeper, the twins were the Beaters, and the other two Chasers were being played by two dead sexy blokes she knew from school—Duncan Moran, a seventh year Gryffindor, and her friend Andy McGrath. Neither of them actually played Quidditch, but they were friends of hers, and why shouldn't she have some nice scenery in a Quidditch dream? All in all, not a bad way to start your fifteenth birthday.

After a shower and selecting some comfortable clothes to wear for her visit to Hogwarts, she went downstairs for breakfast. She assumed that Hermione was off reading somewhere, because she had already been gone when Ginny woke up, and the only people eating breakfast were Harry and Remus.

"Morning Remus, Harry," she offered. Remus answered in kind.

"Morning," Harry mumbled. Obviously, he was still a little flustered from the previous day's events. Silence followed as Ginny served herself some eggs and toast. Remus looked at Harry like he was waiting for him to do something, but after a minute or two, apparently decided to proceed on his own.

"Happy Birthday, Ginny." She turned to him with a bright smile, as Harry's head jerked to attention, his eyes flicking back and forth between Remus and Ginny. He either hadn't known it was her birthday, or he had forgotten in the short time since she practically screamed it to her mother the day before.

"Thanks, Remus."

"Er, yeah, Happy Birthday, Gin." Ginny was slightly amused at the obvious conflict going on within the young man. His embarrassment at witnessing the shirt conversation was battling with the embarrassment of having forgotten her birthday. They finished their meals relatively quickly, and cleared their plates.

"Ready?" Remus asked, pulling out a bag of gummy bears. "We're going by Portkey. It's set for about a minute from now, so get a hand on it." Ginny and Harry did as they were told, and it wasn't long before the familiar tug behind the navel had dumped them right into Dumbledore's office. The headmaster was seated at his desk, and Fawkes was perched nearby.

"Hullo, Fawkes," Ginny greeted the phoenix, as she was standing nearest to him. He was still in the youth stage of his current life, but close to fully grown. They all sat down in three comfortable-looking chairs that Dumbledore must have conjured.

"Happy Birthday, Ginny," Dumbledore said. Ginny smiled and thanked him.

"You are probably wondering why I requested to speak with the three of you together." From the looks on their faces, his suspicions were correct. "I realize this is a sensitive subject, but I hope what comes out of this meeting is much less disagreeable." Now Ginny's curiosity was definitely piqued.

"Harry, shortly after you were born, your father and Sirius decided that they each ought to prepare a will, given the grave times and dire circumstances in which they found themselves. The main reason was to ensure your security, but in Sirius' case he also wanted to ensure that the Black family fortune would not revert to his cousins in the event of his death." Harry looked a bit pained at the topic of discussion, but it helped that the main subject wasn't Sirius himself or his death, per se; there was something else to focus his mind on besides his actual demise. Ginny was glad, too. Remus spoke up.

"But when Sirius estranged himself from the family, his mother disinherited him, so how would he have even gotten control of the estate in the first place?"

"A very good question, Remus. It was yet another example of his family's misguided obsession with the purity of blood that undid them. Sort of a nice little irony in an otherwise painful circumstance. They chose one of the few pureblood Magical attorneys that remains. You see, most of the old pureblood families are too wealthy to necessitate active employment, and thus there are very few purebloods in any trade or occupation, including the law. None of the solicitors who sympathized with me, the Potters, or the Aurors, would ever have accepted an appointment with the Blacks, let alone take them as a client. Sirius was the exception of course, as his loyalties were well known. Consequently, there was only one option for them, given their own prejudices, and luckily for all of us, that meant that the counselors who drew up the will did a less than thorough job of excluding Sirius from his inheritance.

"You see, the way it was altered did take Sirius' name out of the text of the will, making his brother Regulus the first son and heir. But they foolishly did not configure the will to protect the estate in the event of Regulus' early death. As I believe you all know, Sirius' brother was killed shortly after they all left school. When his parents died, the estate reverted back to the next blood relative in the direct line, which was Sirius. After Harry was born, and certain things became known to us, Lily, James, and Sirius knew they were in considerable danger, and James wisely convinced Sirius to make arrangements in case the worst should happen. That is how we came to install our headquarters at 12 Grimmauld Place last year, and that is how we have been able to remain there since the events at the Department of Mysteries.

"This is all by way of saying that Sirius left almost everything to you, Harry." At this, Harry briefly shut his eyes, Ginny presumed, to stop tears that were threatening to fall. "Including the house. I believe, if you wish, Winky will formally pledge herself to your house and your service as a house elf. Dobby, I think, did so a long time ago." At this small brightening of subject, Harry opened his eyes again and nodded at Dumbledore. "I have spoken with Dobby, and he would like to alternate between Hogwarts and whichever house you decide to call home, depending on where you are, while Winky will remain always at the house. Does that suit you, Harry?" Harry nodded, looking slightly less miserable than before.

"At any rate, all of Sirius' inheritance, with the exception of the house and his personal effects, have been safely removed to the Potter family vault at Gringotts, notwithstanding what Sirius dictated was to go to Remus." Remus looked slightly shocked at first, but then returned to his somber expression and nodded. "I doubt you have ever seen your family's vault, Harry. The vault that you visit to withdraw money for school is where your parents set up a trust fund for you, in case you ended up needing resources before you came of age. I am the trustee for your full inheritance, both from your parents and Sirius, until it vests to you next summer. Do you have any questions?" Here he paused, and when Harry shook his head, the headmaster continued.

Ginny was trying not to feel like a total voyeur, and wondered why on Earth Dumbledore had requested her to be here for this.

"That was all the result of actions taken many years ago. As such, I feel, in the interest of full disclosure, that I ought to inform you that Peter Pettigrew was also named in the will, since it was prepared before we learned of his betrayal." Harry's face darkened in anger. He looked like he was about to shout, but the headmaster spoke first. "However, since his official status with the Ministry of Magic is that he is deceased, his share of the inheritance reverted back to Harry. So no harm there, at least." Harry seemed to calm down a bit at this news.

"The last thing I have to reveal to you on the subject came about only this past Christmas. Sirius wrote three letters and gave them to me for safekeeping here at Hogwarts, to deliver should anything happen to him. I asked the three of you to come, because you are the addressees of those letters."

Ginny was quite shocked. She had treasured her short-lived friendship with Sirius, but never expected that she'd had as deep an effect on him as he had on her. There was a storm of emotion brewing inside of her now, and she was glad to be at Hogwarts in the event that her magic got out of hand. It was not long before she felt the familiar swelling of power rising up. She squirmed in her chair for a second, before bracing herself against it for support.

Dumbledore took out three letters. Harry's, naturally, looked to be quite a bit longer than the other two. Each of them reached toward Dumbledore's desk to retrieve the sealed packet with their name on it. Ginny was starting to struggle against the tide of magic that was now up to her shoulders, and she grabbed on to the chair tightly.

"Excuse me, Professor? I don't want to wreck any of your things, but…" He obviously sensed that she was having trouble controlling her magic and cut her off.

"There is nothing to fear, Miss Weasley. Anything that might break or explode can easily be replaced. I daresay I have too many possessions as it is." With that last statement, Ginny saw Harry's head jerk up toward Dumbledore. He looked at her suspiciously, back at Dumbledore, and then went back to his letter.

With trembling hands, Ginny opened her own. When she saw the words "Dear Ginny," in Sirius' handwriting, she couldn't contain the small sob that leaked out. She immediately clapped a hand to her mouth, took a breath, and left her chair to sit on the floor in between some bookcases, where she would be slightly obscured from view. Once she calmed herself a bit, she took a deep breath and opened the letter again.

_Dear Ginny,_

_If you are reading this, it means that something has happened to me. I hope that, at the very least, I was able to die helping you, Harry, Remus, or the Order. At best, I hope that Voldemort has been defeated, the war is over, and that you still have some of your childhood left to enjoy without such an ominous cloud hanging over you. It was always a pleasure to have you at the house. We are kindred spirits, you and I. Both left out, both frustrated, both with more knowledge of dark things than we deserve, especially you. I hope that you were able to find some level of comfort or reassurance from our many late night conversations. I always did, and you'll never know how grateful I was for them. You are a brilliant witch, Ginny. Don't ever forget that. Use what Tom did to you as a strength—don't let it be a weakness. Always remember that it took a strong heart and a strong soul to survive what he did to you, and you should be proud of yourself. Do not shrink from it, or hide from the memories. They are a part of who you are, and they will help to shape the witch you are becoming. If you face them head on, Voldemort and the Dementors can never use them to harm you. _

She was so overwhelmed with emotion, she could barely read for the hurricane of magical power crashing around inside her. The power had filled her abdomen, and out through her arms, and for the first time it flowed down her legs as well. It was all she could do to hold off an explosion; of herself, or something in the room, she didn't know.

_You are unlike any girl I have ever met. Your kindness, intelligence, strength, and power have only been matched by one other young woman I've known—another redhead. Maybe it's something about the hair, but when you kids were here for Christmas, and you got in Harry's face about being possessed by Voldemort, I swore I was having déjà vu of Lily and James. James was very different from Harry in some ways, as you and Lily are not the same, but one thing you have in common with her is an inner strength that makes you seem fearless. When Harry's friends have been afraid to stand up to him or make him angry, you have been there to do the job. Real friends don't tell you what you want to hear, they tell you what you need to hear. It takes a while to figure that out when you're still in school (I speak from personal experience), but I can tell that you have already learned that lesson well. I only hope Harry learns it soon and credits you for the loyalty, friendship, and love that you deserve. _

BANG!

She jumped. The planet Jupiter in a model of the solar system had exploded on the other side of the room. Fawkes looked at the mess it made on the floor, and looked back at her reprovingly. Ginny caught her breath and resumed reading, having felt the magic recede back to her stomach.

_I promise not to stick my nose in yours or Harry's business too much, other than to say that he couldn't do better than you. I sensed that you've got it pretty bad for my godson, and I was always in awe of how patient you are with him, when you could probably have any bloke you want. James and Lily would have thought you brilliant, too, by the way. James always did like feisty girls (he married Lily and his favorite teacher was McGonagall—go figure) and I reckon Lily would like a girl who could keep her boy in line. And that's saying something—as you know first hand, not everyone is willing to stand up to him like you, not even his two best mates. Please stay strong for him. If Voldemort is still out there, Harry's going to need you before the end, whether he realizes it now, or not. He's got an extraordinary burden to carry, and while he might think he has to carry it alone, you have to keep up in his face, reminding him that he doesn't have to. I know you, at least, are up to that challenge. _

She stopped reading for a second, and sighed. She could already feel the swell building up again, and was torn between wanting desperately to finish the letter, and not wanting to disturb the others as they read their own letters. She figured it would be much less trouble to explode things now, where the adults knew about her powers, rather than back at headquarters where people would ask questions. She'd just have to apologize and make up some excuse to tell Harry.

_In my absence, I hope you are able to befriend Moony. He is a much more sensitive bloke than I ever was, and he could do with a laugh. You were always able to make me laugh, and I think if anyone could get a chuckle out of Remus, it would be you. I am afraid that he will feel that Harry is all he has left, and will close himself off. He never expects people to care about him; we had a hard enough time at Hogwarts convincing him that we were his best mates. I can only imagine what he thinks now that James and I are both gone. As the only daughter of Molly Weasley, I am sure you've inherited at least some of her incredibly strong maternal instincts. Please use them where Remus is concerned. I expect he'll need some looking after. _

_I don't like the prospect of not being there to look after Harry, and you, and Remus, but I feel better knowing that the three of you will be there to look after each other. You can always confide in Remus—he keeps secrets better than anyone I've ever known. And you don't need better proof of Harry's protection than your first year; imagine how he'd react now that you're one of his friends. I'm sorry to have left before I was ready to. Please know that, wherever I am, I miss you very much. Please take good care of yourself, and don't ever lose hope. I'm sure we'll meet again someday. _

_Love,_

_Sirius_

CRACK!

A large mirror shattered, and Ginny jumped again. She silently hoped no one had been hit by flying shards of glass. She pulled her knees up to her chest and hugged them, trying to calm herself down. As she went over the contents of the letter in her head, her silent tears became quiet sobs.

Ginny put the letter down, buried her face in her knees, and wept for all the grief she had kept at bay with Potions and Defense and wandless magic all summer.

She didn't know how long she had been sitting on the floor like that, but it seemed like forever. When she was all cried out, she re-read the letter and folded it back into its original form. She wiped her eyes and peeked out of her hiding place to find her companions. It appeared that Dumbledore had kindly left them to read in relative privacy.

Harry was alternately reading from his letter and staring out into space. He was scrunched up much the way Ginny had been, but he was still on his chair. Tears were running down his face, but he wasn't sobbing. Remus had his eyes closed and covered by one of his hands, as he remained in his chair next to Harry.

Ginny got up and silently walked over to the door of Dumbledore's office, thinking she might leave them alone for a while and think. But when her hand hit the knob, she heard her name.

"Ginny, wait." She turned around to see Harry watching her. At the sound of Harry's voice, Remus looked up as well. Harry paused, and it seemed like now that he had her attention, he didn't know what he wanted to say. It was as if he just didn't want her to leave, but hadn't planned much further than that. "Can you, um…just…not go?" He was blushing like a tomato, and Ginny nodded.

"Sure." She was going to sit in her chair, but on her way, noticed the remains of Jupiter and the mirror in separate corners of the floor. She drew her wand and scourgified both messes, looking up at Fawkes for approval. In return, the phoenix gave her a brief trill and what appeared to be the bird equivalent to a nod of his head. Then Ginny sat back down in her chair.

She didn't know why Harry wanted her to stay, because it was quite obvious that the reason wasn't for conversation. But if it made him feel better, she wasn't about to deny him comfort where he could find it. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes, the letter gripped tightly in her right hand.

At some point she must have fallen asleep, because she woke up at the feeling of someone touching—or rather, perching, as it turned out—on her shoulder. She turned to see Fawkes perched on her right shoulder, and looked up to find Harry watching her. Remus was in the far end of the room speaking quietly with Dumbledore. She smiled at the phoenix, who flew the short distance back to his perch, and then turned again to Harry.

"I didn't know you were such good friends with Sirius," Harry said, curious and sounding a bit guilty about not having realized that they had been close.

"Yeah, well, before you came last summer, we were stuck there all the time, and we were both pretty frustrated at being left out. One night I went down for a drink of water, and he was still up, sitting in the kitchen. We got to talking, and figured out that we had a lot in common, and we found comfort in knowing we were in the same boat, I guess. After that, we stayed up a lot of nights talking, after everyone else had gone to bed."

Harry looked even more guilty now, probably because he was remembering what a prat he had been the summer before, and hadn't considered that other people were frustrated or lonely, too.

"Wow. I didn't know."

"Harry, I think you'll find there's a lot of things about me you don't know," she replied, her tone a mixture of long-suffering patience and sadness. And maybe a hint of bitterness. Harry seemed a bit taken aback by her statement, but he didn't get a chance to reply, as right then Remus and Dumbledore turned their attention to the two teenagers.

"Ginny, why don't we head out for a while. Professor Dumbledore needs to speak to Harry. I think we could find some way to keep ourselves occupied, don't you?" He smiled warmly at her, and it was a huge relief to Ginny after having seen him in anguish a little while ago.

"You bet." She stood up and turned to Dumbledore. "Thank you, professor. I really appreciate you keeping my letter for me." She shook his hand, as always, gave Fawkes an affectionate pat on the shoulder, and turned to leave. Harry was wearing the latest in a series of befuddled expressions where she was concerned, probably in reaction to her blunt comment, but perhaps also the ease and familiarity with which she interacted with the headmaster.

"See you later, Harry."

"See you, Ginny." Remus said they'd be back in a few hours, nodded to Harry, and followed Ginny out of the office. They walked in companionable silence for a few minutes, until Remus spoke.

"Dumbledore is going to have lunch sent up to the Room of Requirement."

"Oh good, I'm starving."

"I assume that Jupiter, and the mirror, were your doing?"

"Yeah. I guess it's better to have that happen here than back at headquarters where everyone would freak out and ask a million questions."

"I believe that is part of the reason Dumbledore brought us here, instead of bringing our letters to us there. People wouldn't be smothering Harry, and you wouldn't get nagged and bothered about your magic." Ginny nodded in understanding. "Have you thought about what you'd like to practice today?" he asked, as they turned the last corner before the hallway where the Room of Requirement was located.

"A bit. The Patronus Charm, obviously. I was thinking maybe _Protego_, _Impedimenta_, some basic defense spells that would be helpful if I ever got myself into a fix without a wand." Remus nodded. "Being able to do a wandless Shield Charm would have been dead useful at the Department of Mysteries, considering that my leg was shattered and I got nailed in the face with I don't know what kind of a Dark hex."

"I don't doubt it."

They arrived at the entrance to the Room. Remus walked back and forth three times, and then the door appeared, just like always. He opened it and entered behind her. They found a room that looked very much like the one Harry usually conjured for D.A. meetings, except that a small section was decorated with a table and two chairs, as well as a fresh array of lunchtime foods. They walked over immediately and sat down to eat.

"Remus, do you think I should just tell Harry about my wandless magic? I can't really think of a very good excuse for what happened in there, and I don't think he'd rat me out to the others." Remus looked thoughtful at this suggestion.

"It might be the most sensible thing to do. I understand why you don't want most people to know about your abilities, and I think your estimation of Harry is correct on this—he knows better than anyone about having to deal with the nagging, and the questions, and people treating him like he's a child. If you ask him to keep your confidence, I know he would keep it faithfully."

"Alright. Well, that makes _that_ a bit easier." There was a pause in the conversation as they both chewed the food in their mouths.

"Ginny, I want to apologize for putting you through this stuff about Sirius on your birthday. Had I known that this is what Professor Dumbledore wanted to discuss with us, I would have insisted that he do it another day." Ginny was touched by his earnestness, and she instinctively wanted to put his mind at ease.

"Remus, I could tell last night that you didn't know what he wanted to see us about. It's not your fault, and frankly, the letter was kind of a nice birthday present from Sirius that I wasn't expecting. Of course it hurts, because I miss him; but he wrote a lot of incredible things, and it makes me happy to know what he was thinking, what he thought about me. It's nice to be told that I was important to someone, you know?"

"Yes, I know." Ginny wanted to prevent the conversation from depressing the both of them, and reckoned that a change of topic was in order.

"Do you think we'll get to go to Diagon Alley for our school things this year?"

"Unfortunately, no. It's just not safe for you guys, and if you think about it, we should really try and avoid any situations that could potentially result in revealing your abilities, don't you agree?" Ginny hadn't thought about it that way, but she supposed he was right. She nodded. Remus continued. "So are you anxious to get your Hogwarts letter? With your grades I would think you would be in the running for Gryffindor Prefect."

"Nah. I mean, I'm probably in the running, but I don't want it. Obviously, I'm not one to set much store by the rules, and I wouldn't be all that keen to enforce them unless there's an egregious offense. Who am I to give people detention for being out after curfew, when I'm out after curfew all the time? I don't fancy being a hypocrite, and there's other things I'd rather be doing than going to Prefect meetings."

"Like?"

"Studying, playing Quidditch, practicing wandless magic, visiting Dobby in the kitchens," Remus smiled at this, "playing pranks, going to meetings of illegal defense clubs. Though I suppose it's not illegal anymore. And then there's sleep, which I doubt I'll ever get much of anyway." Remus nodded, and wiped his mouth with his napkin. They had finished eating, and it was time for the good stuff.

Ginny started slow, thinking it best to work up to the harder bits of magic rather than jumping right into them. The Patronus Charm was difficult even with a wand, and she wanted to work up from doing simple charms with and without a wand, to the harder ones. First she tried _Accio_, and was easily able to cast it, both with a wand and without, on the first go.

_Expelliarmus_ was a bit harder without a wand. On the first try she couldn't do it at all wandless, and on the second she made Remus' wand twitch in his hand, but it remained there. Finally, Ginny found a way to harness the power and use it to launch the spell from her outstretched hand. She may have overdone it a bit, because not only did Remus' wand come flying toward her, but Remus was thrown onto the floor as well. He looked up at her stunned face and chuckled—obviously it had surprised her as much as it surprised him.

"I think you figured out the secret. The rest of the spells shouldn't cause you much trouble now, I expect." He dragged a small table over and placed it in front of her. "Why don't you try a _Reducto_ curse, first time without your wand. Don't worry about being fast; once you get used to going through the motions, you'll be able to do it much quicker. For now we just want you to be able to control it."

Ginny nodded and Remus moved out of the way. Ginny started thinking about Sirius and the letter he had written to her, and immediately felt her power beginning to rise. She directed it into a tight ball with her mind, and pointed at the table.

"_Reducto!_"

The table exploded.

"Excellent!" Remus shouted with approval. Ginny turned and smiled at her former teacher. She thought for a moment how sad it was that he couldn't be a teacher anymore on account of his being a werewolf. It was really quite a shame because he was brilliant at it.

They went through several more spells—a levitation charm, _Alohomora_, a severing spell, a vanishing spell, _Nox_, _Lumos_, _Impedimenta_, a stunner, _Ennervate_, and a shield charm. She seemed to have found an efficient way in which to harness her power, and did all of them three times in a row with ease. Except _Protego_. The shield charm caused her some problems, mainly because she wasn't sure where to aim when she wanted the shield to build itself around her and not around someone else. After the third time didn't work, Remus stepped in.

"Why don't you try picturing yourself in your mind, and make that image the target of your shield." Ginny nodded and closed her eyes. She gathered her magic into a tight ball, and pictured herself in her mind. Before she could even say the incantation, she felt the magic expend itself into erecting the shield. She opened her eyes to find Remus grinning.

"Is my shield up?" she asked, puzzled.

"Yes, I believe it is. Hold on a second." And he cast a tickling charm which quickly deflected off the shimmering outline of her shield.

"Wow, I didn't even have to say it out loud!"

"That's wonderful. That will come in handy if you run into any Death Eaters again. Not only will your shield be a surprise, but if your thought-casting works with other spells, it will give some cover to your wandless magic. If people don't hear you saying the incantation, they won't think it's you when you don't have a wand."

"Brilliant."

"Alright, are you ready to try a Patronus?" Ginny took a deep breath.

"Yes. Let's do it."

"Okay, why don't you try it with your wand first, and then if you can do it that way, give it a go without your wand." Ginny nodded and pulled out her wand. "Remember, you need a happy memory."

Ginny closed her eyes and tried to think of the happiest moments of her life. There weren't many, to be honest, but she thought of two right away: catching the Snitch to win the Quidditch Cup last year, and Harry rescuing her from the Chamber of Secrets. Since the latter was so closely connected to some not-so-happy memories, she went with the former.

"Alright," she said, picturing herself stealing the Snitch from the clutches of Cho Chang. She raised her wand. "_Expecto Patronum!_" She got a bright wisp of white smoke that stretched out ten meters in front of her, but no true Patronus. Maybe she should have used the other memory. She turned to Remus.

"I have a different memory I can try, but I'm not sure it's the right kind. You see, in a way it's the happiest I've ever felt, but at the same time, it's surrounded by some pretty bad memories. Would it still work, do you think?"

"I think you should at least try it. Won't hurt to see what happens." Ginny nodded and got herself ready to perform the charm a second time.

In her mind she remembered lying on the cold, damp, stone floor of the Chamber, hearing Tom Riddle taunting her, taunting Harry. She was so deeply involved in the memory, that she didn't even notice how her power began to rise and swell in her gut. She saw Harry defeat the basilisk, and rush to her side, pleading with her to wake up. And then she heard him telling her, with a warm smile and his uniquely intense gaze, that she was safe.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" Her own voice startled her out of her reverie, and as she opened her eyes to see if she'd been successful, she heard Remus gasp.

What she saw made her freeze.

_Oh Bollocks. Someone just kill me now. _

What she saw wasn't a dragon, like Charlie's Patronus, or a stag like Harry's. It wasn't an otter like Hermione's, or a wolf like Remus'. No, the symbol of Ginny's protector was none other than Harry Potter, carrying the sword of Godric Gryffindor in his right hand, his wand in his left. Patronus-Harry stopped, turned, and walked back toward Ginny and Remus, who both stood flabbergasted at what they were seeing.

The interesting thing about the image of her conjured protector was that, while carrying the weapons he had used down in the Chamber of Secrets, Patronus-Harry didn't look to be twelve years old. No, he was the sixteen year-old version, six feet tall, complete with broad shoulders and a defined jaw line.

She was so preoccupied with the form her Patronus had taken, that she hadn't even noticed that she performed the spell with the wrong hand—the one _without_ her wand. The Patronus dissolved, making her start from her paralyzed position. She turned to Remus with a look of horror on her face.

"There has to be a mistake, I mean, a Patronus is supposed to be an animal, right? Not a person! I bet it just turned out like that because the memory I used was when Harry rescued me from the Chamber of Secrets. I'm sure it'll be different if I just choose another memory—" She trailed off as she saw Remus shaking his head. She sighed. "Oh, this is so embarrassing. What am I going to do at school? _At D.A. meetings_? Oh, _no_."

She wanted to cry. Why did things like this happen to her? Just when the wizarding world no longer thought that she was infatuated with the boy, some mean, divine power had to intervene and do this. If her brothers ever saw this—oh, Merlin, if _Harry_ ever saw it—her life would be over. She would fall over and die just from the humiliation. Remus cleared his throat.

"Er, on the upside, you did it without using your wand." Remus was such a good sport, but she could tell he was as shocked as she was.

"Oh, Remus, what am I going to do?" She was whining now, but she figured she was owed a good whine or two after what had just happened.

"Well, there's not much we _can_ do, I suppose. At least you know you can do it now, right?" Ginny wanted to curl up and die.

"Please don't tell anyone. I'll probably tell Professor Dumbledore eventually, but seriously, Remus, you can't tell a soul about this." Remus looked at her with sympathy as she pleaded with him. It really was some rotten luck.

"Don't worry, Ginny. I won't say anything." He really couldn't stand to see her this distraught. And without even thinking about it, he walked over to her, and for once _he_ gave _her_ a hug, instead of the other way around. Then she really did start crying.

_Oh, for crying out loud. Get yourself together, Weasley!_ She gave Remus one last squeeze in thanks, and pulled back. She wiped her eyes and face with her shirt, and took a few deep breaths to get control of herself.

She was just about calm, when they heard a pop, and turned around to see Fawkes landing on the back of a chair. Ginny walked over to the phoenix and stroked the bird's head in greeting.

"Does Professor sniff Dumbledore want us back in his office?" she asked. Fawkes opened his beak and trilled in response. At the lovely sound, Ginny felt somewhat better. Her cheeks were warmer and she hoped she didn't look like she had just been crying all over Remus' robes. She turned back to her friend.

"Ready to go?" he asked. Ginny nodded. She gave Fawkes one last pat on the head, and the phoenix disappeared. Remus walked up next to her and they exited the room.

"Sorry for crying all over your robes," she said, miserably. Remus smiled, but she didn't see it.

"Not a problem. Try not to worry about it right now. He's probably going to find out about it sooner or later, but you might as well not dwell on it until he does. Okay?"

"Okay. I doubt I'll be able to forget about it, at least until tomorrow, but I'll try."

"Here's something to get it off your mind for the moment." Ginny turned to look at him as they walked, anxious to be able to concentrate on something else. "Think of what you want to say to Harry about your wandless magic." Ginny had forgotten about that, and pondered what to say as they strolled through the old hallways in comfortable silence.

"Ice Mice," Remus recited, and the doorway to the headmaster's office opened. They got on the stairs and waited as they rose to the inner entrance. Harry opened the door just as Remus went to knock on it.

Ginny blushed as Harry's eyes immediately went to her. He got a disconcerted look on his face, which she figured must have been caused by the traces of crying that remained on her face. She gave him a small smile, hoping to indicate that everything was okay. Remus entered last and shut the door behind them.

"I trust that you were able to amuse yourselves sufficiently?" Dumbledore inquired. Ginny and Remus shot each other a look, and Ginny snorted with derision as she pictured her Patronus in her mind. Remus smiled, and Harry looked even more confused.

"Yes, Professor, thank you, we had an interesting time, to say the least," Ginny answered, hoping that she wasn't blushing. _Talk about mood swings. Crying like an idiot one minute, and smirking the next. Poor Remus must think I'm barking mad_. The headmaster nodded.

"Are you ready to return to Spinners End, then?"

"Actually, Professor, if you don't mind, I think I ought to explain something to Harry before we go." Dumbledore motioned for her to proceed, and she turned to look at the real version of her Patronus. Harry was looking right back at her, and she got caught up in his intense gaze for a second before Remus once again came to the rescue, putting his hand on her shoulder.

"Right. Well, ah, Harry, you probably noticed that when we were reading our letters from Sirius earlier, the model of Jupiter exploded, and then a bit later the, um, mirror shattered." Harry nodded in recognition, and glanced at Dumbledore and then Remus before returning his gaze to Ginny.

"Was that you, then?" Ginny nodded.

"Yes, it was. I can do wandless magic, and since I can't really control it yet, it goes sort of bonkers when I'm really emotional or having intense feelings of some kind. That's how I destroyed the painting of Sirius' mum." Harry's eyed widened in recognition.

"Does your family know about this?"

"No, none of them except Fred and George. And I want to keep it that way, so Harry, you can't tell anyone, I mean it. And definitely not Ron or Hermione." Harry started at this last revelation, but paused to consider her request. Finally he nodded.

"I understand. If your mum or Ron or Hermione found out, they'd be relentless. You'd never get a moment's peace. And forget about ever being independent again." He paused. "I'll keep your secret." As he finished, he looked up at her earnestly. He knew all too well what she was trying to avoid.

"Thanks, Harry. That makes five that know, six counting Dobby." She turned briefly to the headmaster. "Unless you've had to inform Professor McGonagall or Professor Snape?"

"I have not found the need to inform either of them yet, but I think at least one of them will need to be notified before long." Ginny nodded, and Dumbledore continued. "If that is all, you may floo back to Spinners End from my fire. Miss Weasley, if you would stay behind for a moment."

Remus entered the oversized fireplace, and threw down his floo powder. The End had been put on the Floo Network, but only to Hogwarts.

"Spinners End!" And he was gone. Harry stepped in, powder in hand, and glanced at Ginny with a strange expression on his face.

"See you in a bit, Gin. Bye, Professor. Spinners End!" And then there were two.

"I hope I did not ruin your birthday, Miss Weasley. That was certainly not my intention."

"No, it was fine. Actually, I told Remus that it was kind of like getting an unexpected present from Sirius." The headmaster smiled sadly and nodded. Then he turned around and retrieved a rather large box from behind his desk. It was wrapped like a present. _Sweet_.

"Well, I found this present for you, though perhaps you may want to wait until you are alone to open it." Ginny considered this for a moment. "Seeing as you would like your special abilities to stay a secret, I think, in order to abide by your own rules, it would be best to open this when you are alone." Ginny caught on. Dumbledore shrank the box so that it was the size of a thimble, and handed it to Ginny.

"Thank you very much, Professor. You shouldn't have, but you are kind to think of me." Ginny put the present in her front pocket, moving her letter from Sirius to her back pocket. Dumbledore smiled at her polite manners, and then appealed to her more mischievous side.

"You needn't thank me, Ginny." His eyes twinkled. "I don't know anything about a gift." He smiled. She would see why later. She grabbed some floo powder and walked into the fireplace.

"Goodbye, Professor. Spinners End!" And back she went.

She tumbled out of the fireplace, and landed at someone's feet. However, it was completely impossible to know whose feet she was sprawled out over, since it was pitch black in the room.

But not for long.

"SURPRISE!" The lights came back on with a vengeance, and Ginny was blinking as her eyes adjusted. She looked up to see that the feet currently acting as a cushion belonged to her brother, Bill.

"Happy Birthday, squirt!" he said, smiling. A hand reached down, she grabbed it, and it pulled her up as she smiled and thanked her oldest brother. She turned and saw that Harry had been the one to help her up.

"Happy Birthday, Gin," he said, a little more confidently than he had earlier that day. She rewarded him with a smile.

"Thanks, Harry." Standing so close to him, she really noticed how much he had grown in the last few months. Neither of them was a scrawny, gangly kid anymore. Both of them had filled out quite nicely, as a matter of fact, and both seemed to be taking a moment in appreciation. She reluctantly let go of his hand and turned to her parents and the rest of the guests who offered their birthday wishes.

Every once in a while, she would think of Sirius, or accidentally look for him around the room, only to recall sadly that he wasn't there. And each time, she would pat her back pocket, just to make sure her letter was still safe in its place.

After everyone had greeted Ginny, and all the guests had been allowed to mingle and talk for a while, they all moved to the dining room and sat down for what appeared to be the biggest dinner to be hosted at the End in quite some time.

All of Ginny's brothers were there (except Percy), her parents, Harry, Hermione, Tonks, Remus, Mad-Eye, and Angelina Johnson and Alicia Spinnet, who had joined the Order recently after graduating from Hogwarts.

_Apparently the Gryffindor Quidditch team is a feeder to the ranks of the Order of the Phoenix_, Ginny mused as she sat down to eat. With six past members—seven, counting Harry's dad—and at least three future members, her observation certainly had merit

Dinner was a jovial affair, and when the plates had been cleared, Ginny's brothers all shouted insistently that it was time for presents. She knew something was afoot because every single one of them was sporting a grin that told Ginny she was in for something. As her gifts—there appeared to be five—were brought into the kitchen, she felt around her pocket to make sure that Dumbledore's not-present was still there. It was. She turned to the array before her.

The first present she noticed was easily the biggest. It was almost as long as she was tall, and about two feet wide. She wondered who it was from until she noticed all the familiar signatures scrawled over the top of the wrapping. She looked around at her brothers.

"Do you lot want me to open this one first?" They answered insistently in the affirmative.

"Then, last it is!" She smiled impishly and went right after the smaller gifts, surrounded by the loud objections of her brothers. From Hermione she got a set of Muggle athletic clothes made by someone named "Nike." Hermione explained that she could use them to train for Quidditch. Ginny thanked her with surprising earnestness, knowing it was quite an effort for Hermione to get something that wasn't a book, let alone something that had to do with Quidditch.

From her parents, Ginny received a set of elegant, Wedgwood-blue dress robes, which were very nice despite being second hand. Tonks gave her a new, dark-gray messenger bag for school, which Ginny really liked (and needed). Remus got her a brilliant set of parchment that allowed the writer to communicate with their friends when they couldn't talk. Remus explained that when one person wrote on one piece, the message would show up on the other pieces, and that he, Sirius, and Harry's dad had used similar devices when they were at Hogwarts.

Thanking her parents, Tonks, and Remus for their kindness, she turned back to the huge gift from her brothers.

"Alright, blokes. I'm ready now." She smiled excitedly and scanned the signatures for the writing of each brother, checking each one off as she found them. Her breath caught as she saw one autograph she wasn't expecting.

Happy 15th Birthday Ginevra

The enclosed should make for a successful

year at Hogwarts. But I'm sure you would

have been a success anyhow.

Your brother,

Percy

She looked up at her brother Bill, then to Charlie.

"What is it?" her mother asked. All her brothers exchanged glances, while everyone else looked concerned at the sudden change in atmosphere.

"Percy. He went in with them on my present." Despite the fact that her beef with him was not exactly on her own behalf, she felt touched by the gesture from Percy and by the effort on the part of her other brothers to reach out to him. This part of the gift wasn't just for her, it was for the whole family.

Ron looked as though he hadn't quite reconciled himself with Percy's action yet, and the twins were oddly expressionless. Ginny concluded that it had been her two oldest brothers who led the effort at fraternal collaboration, but in such a collective gesture, the impact was still the same. It was from her _brothers_. Not her-brothers-minus-Percy. Mrs. Weasley was crying. Mr. Weasley appeared to be reluctantly pleased as he comforted his wife. Ginny was relieved when Fred decided to restore the formerly jubilant atmosphere.

"Well, shorty, are you going to open it, or just stare at it all night?" The tension in the air immediately drained away as several people chuckled at Fred's characteristic bluntness.

Ginny tore into the wrapping paper excitedly. What she found was a large wooden box, with a lock that prevented her from opening the present any further. She turned to George, who was sitting to her right.

"Oy, big brother, what do I do now?" George smiled and gestured toward Charlie, who was sitting on her left.

"Need the keys, little sister," he said, beaming and handing her a set of two identical metal keys. She grinned at him and turned back to her gift. She unlocked the box, opened the lid, and gaped.

"BUGGER OFF!" she yelled, in happy disbelief. Her exclamation was followed by a mix of loud guffaws from her brothers, excited comments from Harry, chuckles from most of the adults, and a stern scolding from her mother about her language.

Her six idiot brothers had put their hard-earned money together and bought her a brand new Cleansweep Retro, 1953 Gwendolyn Morgan Special Edition chaser's broom!

She didn't know what to say. She looked around at each of her brothers' smiling faces and felt her eyes fill with tears. _Oh, not again!_ She felt her emotions swelling, egging on her magic as it rose quickly up through her chest and into her shoulders. She had to get a hold of herself. She braced herself on George's shoulder and took a deep breath. Seeing that she was starting to get uncharacteristically emotional—well, it was uncharacteristic before the summer started, anyway—her brothers stood up, one by one, and walked over to where she was standing with her new broomstick in her hand.

She hugged each of them fiercely, not caring anymore that she was crying in front of everyone. Her brothers could tell that she was happy, however, by the wide grin that showed through the tears and sniffling. First George, who she had been leaning on, then Bill, then Fred, then Ron, and finally, Charlie. Each one squeezed her tight, and each one told her he loved her.

She had only ever seen Ron cry before, and even then only when he was about six years old because she had accidentally hexed him. But as she pulled away from each one of the brothers she adored, she saw that they were struggling with their emotions as well. A few renegade tears had escaped onto Charlie's face, and Ginny knew instantly that it had been his idea.

The brother that had once taken the time and the patience to teach her how to fly, had somehow convinced his other brothers that their little sister was worth the newest and fastest chaser's broomstick in the world. Perhaps she'd found a new memory for her Patronus? She didn't think anything could be better than this.

"Who is this Morgan person?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"_Mum_," Ron whined. "She was _only_ chaser and captain for the Holyhead Harpies in the _greatest match ever played_! 1953, against the Heidelberg Harriers," he rattled off the stats. "The match took seven bloody days!"

"And get this!" George added. "When it was over, the captain for the Harriers, this bloke named Brand, he dismounted from his broom, got down on one knee, and proposed to her! And she answered him with a broom to the face! Gave the bloke a concussion!"

"Yes, well that's why we got this particular broom, see. We thought that Ginny'd fit right in with old Gwendolyn." Ginny tried to glare at Fred, but couldn't help laughing, so she thwacked him on the head instead. "See!" Fred exclaimed, grinning and pointing at his sister. That earned him another swat to the head. Everyone laughed.

"Nah, it's because she's a star chaser, of course! Just like her favorite brother." Bill winked at a laughing Ginny. "And, well, this was the only broom we could find that was good enough for her." That last statement, while perhaps true, earned him a chorus of "awwww" from the female guests, and a synchronized eye-roll from Fred and George.

Presents were followed by cake and ice cream, which was followed by a spontaneous bout of storytelling from her brothers. Fred and George entertained the group with stories about what they did to their helpless little sister before she could defend herself, and even some about how she had paid them back in full once she was not so helpless. Ron contributed a story or two from Hogwarts. Bill and Charlie each got one in, though their stories were from when Ginny was much younger.

By the time all was said and done, the dining room was filled with flushed cheeks and watery eyes from all the laughing. Ginny didn't think anyone ever had such a great birthday. She sat in her chair between Charlie and George, listening to her brothers' stories and adding her own details and interjections where she felt they were needed. She held onto her new broom the entire evening.

Gradually the crowd thinned a little, Order members went home (except for Remus), and it was time for bed. Ginny hugged and kissed all her brothers and thanked them for her gift for the millionth time. All of them were quite pleased with the affection they received, except for Ron, who seemed a bit embarrassed now that the commotion of celebrating and opening presents was gone. Ginny caught Harry's eye as Ron turned beet red, and they snickered at his reaction.

Ginny thanked and said good night to her parents, Remus, and Hermione. Still carrying her Cleansweep, she walked quietly up to her room, locked the door so no one could disturb her, and pulled Dumbledore's not-present out of her pocket. She put it on the window seat in front of her, and concentrated on her magic.

"_Finite Incantatem_!" she said, pointing at the thimble-sized gift. It immediately enlarged to the size of a moving box, and was quite a bit heavier. The wrapping paper was silver, with moving Quaffles and brooms zooming around. There was a big bow on the top and an envelope. She plucked the enveloped and found a letter inside.

_Miss Weasley,_

_I hope you have enjoyed your birthday. Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, and I thought that you might find the enclosed useful in the upcoming school year. Take care of yourself. This letter will dispose of itself in a minute or two. _

_Until September 1st,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

Ginny quickly re-read the note and put it down on the table. She wasn't sure what Dumbledore meant by "dispose of itself" and thought it best that she wasn't holding it when it did so. She had just plucked the bow off the top of the present when she heard a _snap!_, followed by a crackling sound. She looked over at the note to find it burning itself up. _"Dispose of itself,"_ she thought to herself. _He couldn't have said "burst into flame"?_

She went back to the large object in front of her and continued to unwrap it. Inside was a wooden chest which was, at first glance, not unlike the case her broom had come in. It was more of a cube though, taller and not nearly as long, and the keys were hanging from the lock. She unlocked it and opened the lid to find another note.

_This box might prove useful for storing things that you do not want people to find. There is an emblem just under the lock on the front, which causes the box to shrink back to the small size in which you brought it home. The emblem is keyed to your touch._

Ginny looked quickly for the emblem and found it, just where the note said it would be. It was the Gryffindor lion, encased in a circle, and about the size of a Sickle. She heard the crackling noise again, and found the second note quickly disappearing into flame. She turned her attention to the contents of the box.

What she found inside didn't seem as exciting as she would have expected a gift from Dumbledore to be. Books. It was like getting a gift from Hermione, except that Hermione had really outdone herself this year with such a sporty gift. A bit disconcerted, Ginny dove in to see what these books were about. Her disappointment soon became intrigue as she perused the titles.

_Apparation: A Guide to Efficient Magical Transportation_

_Rare and Dangerous Potions of the Middle Ages_

_A Study of Dark Enchantments_

_Recognizing Toxins & Preparing Their Antidotes_

_Advanced Defense and the Unforgivable Curses_

_The Auror's First Aid Manual_

_Meditation and Self Control_

_The Best of the Light: The Official Auror Training Text (Year One)_

_The Best of the Light: The Official Auror Training Text (Year Two)_

_The Best of the Light: The Official Auror Training Text (Year Three)_

_Transfiguration Prodigy_

Ginny was speechless, overrun with different reactions at the various books. Some of them were very old, some appeared just a bit used like her school books, while others appeared to be brand new. She looked inside of the four slightly worn Auror's books to find the name _Gideon Prewett_ scrawled in the front cover of each one.

_My uncle?_ she thought with some shock. She knew that her mother's two brothers had been killed by Death Eaters, but she hadn't known that either of them had been Aurors. She liked the idea that the books had belonged to her uncle. Dumbledore must have given them to her on purpose.

She wondered for a moment if her mother knew about her brother's old books, but quickly discarded that idea when she remembered that her mother would go spare if she knew the headmaster had given her only daughter a set of Auror training manuals. She wondered if Harry had been given similar books for his birthday.

The books on Apparation—_No wonder Dumbledore didn't want to draw attention to this_—Meditation, and Antidotes were brand new. She figured that the one on Meditation was to help her keep her feelings and emotions in check so she wouldn't go around blowing things up before they got back to Hogwarts.

She was very excited about the Apparation book—she knew Dumbledore would not have given her a book like that without a purpose. She had seen the twins Apparate from room to room here at the End about a million times, just as they had done so often at Grimmauld Place, so she knew it would be safe to practice before she went back to school, where the wards wouldn't allow it.

Intrigued and not just a little amused, she picked up both Potions texts and looked them over. If the Antidotes book was brand new, the one about the Middle Ages was ancient. The cover was battered and wearing thin, the pages were brittle and yellowing, and she wondered if perhaps it was from Snape's own collection. _Not like he'd need it, the git. He's probably got it memorized by now._

Ginny really enjoyed Potions, in a perverse kind of way. She'd been honest with Remus. Even if Professor Snape _was_ the instructor—at this point, almost _because_ he was the instructor—it was her second favorite class after Defense. She liked that you could see what went into each concoction, and how the effects and attributes would change depending on what you added, how you prepared the ingredients, the temperature at which you combined them.

Frankly, she didn't really mind Professor Snape anymore. By now she was more amused with him than anything else, and calling him names had more to do with familiarity than anger or distaste. She had been just as petrified of him as everyone else when she was a first-year, but coming back in second year, and particularly in third year she had decided that there were a lot nastier things than him to be worried about.

By her fourth year she had begun to see him as a particularly feisty challenge, and realized that the feeling of accomplishment was much higher when she prepared a potion perfectly in the face of her instructor doing everything in his power to trip her up.

She knew that Snape had said and done some pretty awful things to Harry, and that Ron hated Snape almost as much as he hated Malfoy, but Ginny considered that there was probably more going on there than it seemed.

First, and most importantly, Snape had to keep up appearances for Voldemort. If he wasn't obnoxiously unfair and mean to Harry (and Ron), then Malfoy would undoubtedly go running to tell his daddy that Snape didn't hate Harry Potter like a proper Death Eater should.

Second, there had to be some particular beef between him and Harry that no one else knew the details of. He goaded Hermione, Ron, and Neville, to be sure, but from what they had said, Snape was just on a completely different level of cruelty when it came to Harry.

And finally, her brother had absolutely no self-control when it came to his temper, and if the idiot hadn't learned to calm the bloody hell down when he was being antagonized in Potions, then it was his own damn fault.

But she had learned from their mistakes. Having been the top Potions student every year after her first gave her a basis of confidence to build from that Snape couldn't deny, and as long as Ginny didn't raise her hand very often or talk in class, he couldn't get her in trouble either. His profound expertise and constant attention kept her on her toes the entire class and very alert. She had developed a formidable amount of self-discipline, both from keeping her cool when Snape got out of hand, and from diligently preparing her assignments.

The best part was that receiving the two Potions books, whether directly or indirectly from Professor Snape, was a small recognition of her talent and ability on his part, and Ginny laughed out loud at the thought. She could just picture him scowling and grumbling at the headmaster's request and not being able to deny it.

Ginny examined the advanced Transfiguration book next, and was pleasantly surprised to see that Professor McGonagall was the author. It looked a bit used like her uncle's Auror Training books, so she flipped open the cover to look for the name of its former owner.

James Potter

Gryffindor, 1976

Ginny slammed the book shut again, not believing that her teachers would actually give her Harry's dad's book. She sat for a second and peeked again, but his name was still there. She thought that Harry's dad must have been a right genius for McGonagall to have given him a separate book from what all the other students used. She had seen her older brothers' books for Transfiguration, and from Bill to the twins, it had always been the same one. And this wasn't it.

She decided she would ask Remus about it sometime. She wasn't keen on showing this to Harry just yet. Showing him the book would lead to other questions and she would be opening up a can of worms that she wanted to keep quite closed at the moment.

Despite all of her new discoveries and questions from opening the box from her professors, Ginny wanted her bed. It had been a long day—albeit an excellent one—and she was ready to pass out. She put all the books back into the box, locked it, and pressed the emblem. It promptly shrank down to the size of an ink bottle, and she shoved it in her underwear drawer. She threw away the torn wrapping paper, and found her way to her bed.


	4. Bumbling Toward Friendship

**CHAPTER 3**

**Bumbling Toward Friendship**

It was several days after Ginny's birthday, and Harry looked terrible. Well, that wasn't so much a newsflash as it was unsettling that he _still_ looked terrible. When he had first arrived back at Grimmauld Place, Ginny could tell he had been severely neglecting his own well-being. He had looked exhausted, strained, and hungry (in every meaning of the word).

And it seemed that being back in the wizarding world hadn't helped matters. Notwithstanding his strangely expressive behavior on her birthday, he had continued his downward spiral despite the initial comfort of being back with his friends and family.

He had almost entirely stopped eating.

_Bloody Hermione_. Ginny was quite sure that the process had been sped up considerably by the constant barrage of questions and impositions coming from Harry's female best friend. And she was not pleased about it.

At least at the End Harry had a good excuse for being alone because he could go exploring his house and all the family-related objects Ginny had found when she was decorating, though Ginny had a feeling that he took a much longer time doing it than he might have if Hermione wasn't being such a pest. Harry's subtle attempts at distancing himself from Hermione at meals had morphed into a policy of blatant avoidance at all times. And still Hermione would not let up.

Hermione had once said that Ron had the emotional range of a teaspoon. Ginny didn't think that was wrong, exactly, but she did think that perhaps Hermione wasn't in any place to be lecturing anyone about emotional maturity. Scolding your friends, badgering them relentlessly, and having very few of them in the first place wasn't a sign of confidence, wisdom, or mature self-awareness, as far as Ginny could tell.

She supposed that Hermione had read about "emotional range" in a book somewhere, probably a Muggle psychology book. Oh, she could label emotions clinically, but Ginny doubted that Hermione had ever been put through a very wide range of them herself. Not to mention her often infuriating ignorance of the lingering effects that resulted from intimate exchanges with Voldemort.

Not that Ginny would wish on anyone the pain that came with having Tom Riddle inside your mind and tearing at your soul. It just meant that there were some things that couldn't be understood by those who hadn't experienced them, and Hermione was going to have to face the fact that her brilliant mind and her books couldn't fix things this time.

For his part, Ginny could see that poor Ron hadn't a clue what to do. He plainly saw that Harry was looking worse by the day, and the pain he felt on his friend's behalf was evident, but he wouldn't stand up to Hermione to tell her to lay off. Ginny was growing increasingly impatient with this, of course, but ever since Harry had been at Spinners End, she had kept her distance. She felt she had no right or attachment that gave her leave to intrude, regardless of how much she might be able to help or understand.

Nevertheless, when Harry began to noticeably lose weight, Ginny decided that she couldn't hold back anymore.

Lunch had just been eaten, a usually somber occasion (due to the tension between Harry and his friends, and not aided by said friends constantly shooting worried looks at each other) mercifully made less uncomfortable by the arrival of their Hogwarts letters. Harry's despair was momentarily forgotten by Ron and Hermione as they tore open the envelopes addressed to them. Ginny took her own and opened it much more slowly, glancing at Harry as she did so. Harry opened his and glanced at his two best friends, just in time to see their Prefect badges fall out.

Suddenly recalling the possibility that she might have been given a similar badge, Ginny checked her own envelope quickly. Much to her relief, she found only folded parchment. She sighed comfortably at having that anxiety dealt with, and looked back to Harry.

He had turned to his own letter and looked up with a slightly brightened expression—there was no smile, but his eyes had a sparkle to them that he rarely displayed these days. However, in the commotion and shouting that emanated from Ron and Hermione's exclamations about O.W.L. results, no one noticed but Ginny. Harry frowned at his friends' neglect. Ginny lightly kicked his foot under the table and he looked up at her. She nodded at the parchment in his hand and mouthed, _What is it?_

He looked briefly back down at his letter before meeting her eyes again and whispering, "Quidditch." He almost smiled. Ginny did smile, her eyebrows raised in expectation. Sliding away from his seat next to Ron, unnoticed by the rest of the crowd in the kitchen, Harry came over and sat next to Ginny, handing her the letter and indicating for her to read it. She perused its contents and looked up at him with a small smile, though her eyes plainly expressed much more excitement.

"Your ban has been lifted!" she exclaimed, though in soft tones. She sensed that Harry didn't want to draw attention to himself. "And captain! Harry, that's brilliant!" He gave her a small smile and nodded in confirmation. At this point he noticed the parchment laying half-opened in her lap.

"So, are you a Prefect?" he asked, tentatively. Ginny shook her head, but smiled.

"Nope. I'm not really the type." She gestured with her head at Fred and George who were currently defending their O.W.L. results against those of their younger brother. Harry nodded. Not wanting the silence to become awkward, Ginny pressed on. "How're your O.W.L.s?"

Harry looked thoughtfully at the parchment with his results, and turned back to Ginny.

"O's in Defense, Herbology, and Care of Magical Creatures, E in Charms, A's in Transfiguration, Potions and Astronomy. And P's in History and Divination."

"Seven!" Then her face fell. When she spoke next, he could barely hear her. "But not an 'O' in Potions, huh?" He shook his head, but held her earnest gaze as he did so.

"Well, at least I'm rid of Snape, right?" Ginny's heart wrenched for him. She knew he had his hopes pinned on being an Auror. She went to say something, but just then, their quiet, pleasant discussion was interrupted as Ron's large hand plucked Harry's results from his grasp.

"Ron! That was rude!" Mrs. Weasley scolded, as Hermione shook her head. "Maybe he doesn't want his results read aloud to the whole world." Ron shrugged and shot Harry an apologetic look.

"Sorry, mate, but—" His attention was abruptly sidetracked as he saw Harry's actual scores. "Blimey, Harry! Mum, I wouldn't worry about Harry being embarrassed about _these_ marks."

"How'd you do, Harry?" Hermione inquired, with undisguised curiosity and a hint of trepidation at the possibility that he had scored better than she had. Ginny snorted in amusement, but recovered when she saw that Harry was hesitating in his response. _Noble git, he doesn't want to brag_.

"He got seven," she answered for him calmly. Everyone in the room turned at the unexpectedly quietness of her voice. "And Quidditch captain, too." She grinned at Harry knowingly, as he blushed, and all the room's attention quickly fixated back on him with exclamation and congratulations.

Lunch concluded with an extra, celebratory pudding quickly whipped up by Dobby and Winky, to mark the occasion of Harry's Quidditch news, and Ron and Hermione's re-selection as Gryffindor Prefects. This celebration was briefly interrupted by Mrs. Weasley's blunt inquiry after Ginny's own Prefect status, and her scolding and disbelief at receiving a negative response. The twins beamed at Ginny with pride, and Remus nodded in support.

Eventually the meal ended, Ginny and Harry having been informed of Ron and Hermione's O.W.L. results. Ron had received one more O.W.L. than Harry—in History of Magic, which Harry had understandably failed—but received only one O (in Defense) and a more even distribution of E's and A's.

Hermione had received the maximum twelve, of course, earning an O in every one but Divination, which she brushed off as being a silly class in the first place. Curious, but by no means surprised, Ron had inquired after the tests she sat for in the subjects she hadn't taken as classes, to which she replied that she had studied for them on her own. At the revolting thought of extra homework and extra tests, Ron looked incredulous, while Harry and Ginny shared a look and shook their heads.

Later, as the adults drank tea or nursed something a bit more potent, Ginny noticed Harry slip out of the kitchen, presumably to escape the now routine questioning from Hermione. Ginny looked around to make sure no one was paying attention, and slipped out after him. She caught up to him as he was rounding the stairs to go up, and grabbed his arm.

"Harry."

"Oh, hey Ginny." He looked startled and then relieved that it was her. _And not Hermione_, Ginny thought to herself. Ginny rounded the stairs and passed him, still holding his arm, and pulling him along behind her. She dragged him to her usual study room, and closed the door. She sat him down, and let go of his arm, taking a seat across from him. He looked a bit perplexed and a little amused at the way she was manhandling him.

"Listen, Harry, I've got a proposition for you." He looked slightly worried.

"Okay."

"Sorry to be blunt, but you look terrible." Harry blushed at this, obviously becoming self-conscious. "You've basically stopped eating, and I can tell that your two best mates are driving you crazy." He looked surprised that she had figured this out. "Look, I know that you're upset and trying to figure out a few things right now—" here Harry began to look anxious, probably thinking she was going to quiz him on his feelings "—and that the last thing you want to do is tell everybody about it." His shoulders unclenched, and he appeared visibly relieved. "I'm not going to ask you a million bloody questions. But I want to make a deal with you." He raised his eyebrows in surprise and then skeptical curiosity. _Yes, Harry, I'm just full of surprises_.

"What kind of deal?"

"I won't ever ask you about Sirius," he flinched, "or about the Department of Mysteries, or the prophecy, and you can hang out in here with me all day, if you like." She noticed that he had paled at the mention of the prophecy, but carried on as if she hadn't. "We can talk about anything else, or not talk at all if you don't want to. I'm usually in here studying, and only Remus knows that I come in here. No one will bother you, and you'll only have to face the Granger Inquisition at meals." Harry smirked at the expression, and then seemed to be considering the offer.

"And the catch?" Ginny looked him straight in the eye.

"You eat. Two good meals a day, at least. Otherwise I leave you to the wolves. And I don't mean Remus. That's my deal." He looked slightly embarrassed again, and then a mixture of surprise that she had noticed and amused respect at her no-nonsense tone. "You get company and freedom from cross-examination, and I get piece of mind from knowing you're not going to starve yourself to death. Do you think you can handle that?" He hesitated, still obviously surprised at her frank and assertive behavior, before nodding confidently.

"Alright. I'm going to do some homework." She turned back to the Defense book she had been working with before lunch. Harry, still appearing to be in a bit of shock at what had just transpired, left the room quietly.

Ginny didn't know quite what to make of this reaction, but she was reassured when he returned shortly after, with what looked like one of his own summer assignments. They sat and worked quietly until Dobby arrived to gather them for dinner.

Their arrangement became a ritual. Harry and Ginny spent the remaining days before September 1 working side by side in the study. Although Harry studied on the couch that first afternoon, he soon took to sharing the large desk with Ginny. For the first few days they worked in companionable silence, but the fourth day found them periodically consulting each other on various details of their activities.

However, they rarely engaged in small talk with each other. Ginny was not surprised by this. Since they weren't actually friends, they didn't have much to talk about anyway, and the one thing they did have in common—Voldemort—Ginny had promised Harry they wouldn't discuss. Occasionally Remus would interrupt their studies and stop in for a chat, or an update in the goings on of the house, but they were usually left alone to their easy but quiet camaraderie.

True to his word, Harry ate a full lunch and dinner every day, often glancing at an amused Ginny in a patronizing gesture for approval. She would respond by nodding, smiling, and rolling her eyes. After a week, Harry looked quite a bit better, and Ginny was extremely pleased with herself.

She wondered daily if Hermione and Ron had spent any time searching them out, and was usually gratified at meals to catch Hermione glancing at Harry as if she was thoroughly put out at his inexplicable disappearances. And every time, Ginny had to stifle a laugh, because it was obvious that Hermione had never even entertained the possibility that Harry was off studying with her.

But the positive effects of their deal weren't confined to healthy weight gain. Although the dark, haunted shadow still grazed Harry's features from time to time, it was markedly less often than before they had taken to quietly studying together. Ginny wasn't sure whether it was the simple distraction of his school work, or the noticeable lack of pressure and discomfort now that he wasn't constantly being prodded, but no one could deny that Harry looked better.

By the time she and Harry had begun to study together, Ginny had long since finished her required summer assignments. Since before her birthday, she had been working ahead in Transfiguration and Potions, and after receiving all those books from her professors, she added the study of Apparation and practice in meditation to her daily activities.

Occasionally Harry would glance at her books and Ginny began to suspect that he'd figured out that she wasn't working on the typical fifth year assignments. Ginny found herself quite glad in hindsight that she had told Harry about her wandless magic abilities; when it came time to actually practice Apparating, he wouldn't freak out at the fact that she didn't need a wand to do it.

Even better was the news Remus had delivered just the day before: that Bill and Dumbledore had discovered particularly strong wards around the End blocking the Ministry's tracking of magic usage, including the underage variety.

Between their study room and her bedroom, Ginny had a wonderfully concealed set of rooms between which she could practice Apparating. One morning, as she sat down to study with Harry in the usual manner, she decided she would finally try it out after lunch. She was brushing up on the instructions in her book (even though she had read them countless times already) when she noticed Harry looking at her books a little more than usual.

He went back to his assignment, but then glanced up at _Rare and Dangerous Potions of the Middle Ages_ and stared at it. Then briefly back to his work, then over to _A Study of Dark Enchantments_. This continued for several more minutes, and Ginny sat watching him, amused that in the midst of his "surreptitious" investigations he never noticed she was staring at him. Then it started to be ridiculous.

"Harry!" He froze and slowly turned to look at her. "Why don't you just ask me about the books. You've been staring at them for a quarter of an hour. If you want to know what they're about, just say something."

"Alright then, what are those books about?"

"I got them from Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Professor Snape for my birthday." Harry's face gave the impression that he had been wondering about this for a while and that his suspicions had been answered.

"You know, I got some, too. For my birthday, I mean. Except I didn't get any from Snape." His face drooped at mentioning Professor Snape, and Ginny figured it was on account of his not getting the 'O' required for N.E.W.T. level Potions. "But I got some other ones besides for school."

"Harry, did you get Auror books?" His eyes went up in surprise and he nodded. Ginny held up the book in her lap. "And one for Apparation?"

He smiled and nodded again.

"Well, I guess I don't have to restrict my reading of those manuals to my bedroom late at night." Ginny smiled. "But why are you doing all this extra Potions, Transfiguration, and Defense? I know its your O.W.L. year, but this stuff—" he said, pointing to _Rare and Dangerous Potions of the Middle Ages_ "—isn't exactly fifth year level, is it?" Ginny bit her lip in reluctance, but decided she might as well tell him.

"If I tell you, it's like the wandless magic thing, you can't tell a soul. Only Remus, Dumbledore, and the twins know." He nodded earnestly. "Well I guess it's not that big a deal, but I'm taking three of my O.W.L.'s early." His eyes went up in surprise and his mouth was open. He considered this new information for a moment and studied her thoughtfully. Ginny almost blushed at the scrutiny and felt an unusual compulsion to explain herself.

"Well, it's not like I've seen Death Eaters for the last time, is it? And if anyone bad finds out about my wandless abilities, that would only make me a bigger target. So I reckon I need some catching up in potions and spells and things. And for some insane reason I really like Potions, and I'm pretty good at mixing them, so why not learn more about them? It couldn't hurt. And I don't want to be in the same position I was in at the Department of Mysteries ever again. Knocked out and gimpy." She shook her head as if she were scolding herself.

"Fat lot of help I was to you lying on the floor, unconscious with a shattered ankle. It was bleeding luck that the Order showed up. But I don't think we should count on that anymore. I think we need to know how to get out of trouble ourselves." Harry looked astonished at what she had said, and was about to say something when he cut himself off.

Ginny guessed that he was probably going to say something like"You never would have been there in the first place if it wasn't for me." _ Idiot boy. And his idiot guilt complex_.

"So Defense, Potions, and Transfiguration, then?"

"Yep."

"Really?"

"Uh huh."

"When are you taking them?"

"Right before we leave for Christmas."

"And then what?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, what happens if you get high marks, I mean, you can't very well go back to the O.W.L. classes, can you?"

"Well, then, when we come back from Christmas holiday, I'll join the sixth year N.E.W.T. classes in the subjects I qualify for."

"Really." Harry's face was deep in thought, but then the corners of his mouth began to twitch upward.

"Really," she replied. He smiled and looked up at her.

"Hermione and Ron are going to go spare when you walk into class the first time." He chuckled to himself. "You have to promise me that if you get into any of our classes, you'll let me walk you to the first one, so we can see their faces when you sit down." Ginny shook her head and smiled. _Can you walk me to class? Harry, mate, was Merlin a wizard?_

"I promise." She hoped that it wouldn't be Potions, because it appeared that Harry and Ron wouldn't be in N.E.W.T. level Potions this year, and the effect just wouldn't be the same if Ron and Hermione didn't get blindsided together. _Hmmm_. Harry. Potions.

"Excellent."

"Hey, Harry?"

"Yeah?" he said distractedly, probably still enjoying the mental image of Hermione being one-upped at school.

"You needed an 'O' to get into N.E.W.T. Potions, right?" Harry's face fell. Ginny cringed because she had been the cause of it.

"Yes."

"Well, I have an idea." He looked at her again.

"Is this like the proposition? Because that seems to be working out okay for me." And by his tone he wasn't joking. Ginny felt better.

"Sort of. Not so much a deal as a mutually beneficial arrangement. I just thought that maybe you could study Potions with me—since studying is all I'm ever going to be doing this year besides playing Quidditch—and even if I get into the N.E.W.T. class I'm still going to be behind, so we can revise together, and you can sit for the exam even though you aren't taking the class. It'll be easier to do the work on your own if you have someone to do it with, and you could learn it with me instead of with Snape." He sat there, pausing to consider her suggestion.

"I think I would definitely rather learn it with you than him." Ginny pretended to look scandalized.

"Well, I would hope so! Gosh, Harry, you really know how to make a girl feel special." He chuckled and shook his head. As he looked down to hide his grin, with his green eyes brightened by laughter, Ginny was struck by how much he didn't look like a kid anymore. He wasn't just taller, like Ron; he looked older. She wondered briefly if he looked like his dad when he did that, and that brought to mind the hand-me-down books she had received from the headmaster.

"Harry," she said quietly, before she could stop herself.

"Hm?"

"Your Auror books—did they belong to your dad?" She didn't have a clue whether James Potter had been an Auror, but she was operating on a hunch. Harry's face returned to the look of shock it so often wore around her recently.

"Yes, they did." He looked very unsure about this and furrowed his brow. "How did you know that?"

"Well, mine belonged to my uncle. He was an Auror, too, apparently. I don't know if he ever finished the training, though. He and his brother were killed by Voldemort. Bill told me that Moody said it took five Death Eaters to do them in, and even then they managed to take four down with them." As Ginny watched Harry absorb this information, she could see a light go on in his head.

"Your uncles were Gideon and Fabian Prewett?" Now it was Ginny's turn to be surprised.

"Yes. How did you know that?" Harry ran his hand through his hair. If Remus had been there, he would have been stunned with déjà vu.

"Moody showed me a picture of the Order taken back when my parents were still alive." _And Sirius_, Ginny thought. She could tell Harry was thinking it, too. "And he went through it, pointing out all the people in the picture, telling me their names and things, and about their families, and.…" He paused here at what appeared to be an unpleasant memory. "….how they all died. And your uncles were in it." He looked up at her, and the subject they were discussing, coupled with the anguished look on his face strangled her heart. "Moody said they fought like heroes."

"Well, standing up for what they believe in and taking out two Death Eaters apiece sounds heroic to me." She added as an afterthought, "but it sure would have been nice to meet them."

"I know what you mean," Harry agreed.

They sat there for a while, Harry staring into space, Ginny staring, unseeing, at the Apparation book in her lap. They were so caught up in thoughts of family and Voldemort and the people they had lost, that they were both startled by the noise of footsteps pounding around upstairs. Ginny could hear her brother's voice yelling around for Harry, soon joined by smaller footsteps. _Hermione_. Hm. What to do. She looked at her book and then up to Harry.

"Have you reviewed all the material on Apparating yet?" Harry nodded. "Want to give it a go?" Harry looked at the door, up at the ceiling where his friends were making noise, and back at Ginny.

"Why not."

"Where do you reckon we should go? I say we try my room. I think they'd be less likely to check for you in there." _Because obviously he'd never have any reason to be in there_.

"Okay. When we hear them start down this hallway, we go." He looked around. "We should probably pack up our stuff. We don't want to let on that we study in here." They both took to that task quickly, and were finishing up when they heard Ron clomping off back down the hall.

"They should be heading down here any second. You ready?"

"Ready. You remember what my room looks like?"

"Well enough to get there, I think." They could hear voices. Ginny wandlessly unlocked the study door and looked at Harry.

"See you soon," she said, with a hopeful smile. She closed her eyes, grabbed her bag of books, and gathered her magic. Focusing on her bedroom, she mumbled the word _Apparatus_ and disappeared. Harry followed a second later, just before the door to the study opened.

With an _oof!_ Ginny landed on her bed, bouncing around so that her bag was thrown onto the floor. Harry arrived a second later, quietly cursing as he almost tripped over her trunk. Gathering themselves from the tumultuous trip, they looked at each other.

"Well, we didn't splinch," Ginny offered. "That's something."

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "Nice to know we can do this in a pinch. I don't think either of us even made a noise when we did it. That'll come in handy."

Just then, there was a noise coming from Ginny's bathroom. She got up off the bed and went to investigate, with Harry following behind her. What she found was not exactly surprising, but curious just the same.

It was the kitten who had been wrestling with her slipper the morning before Harry had arrived at Spinners End. The little beast had gotten a hold of the toilet paper and yanked it until it had unrolled almost entirely, and was currently playing in a pile of the white, fluffy tissue. Upon noticing Harry and Ginny in the doorway, it stopped its activity and looked at each one of them in turn, spending longer on Harry.

Appearing to come to some sort of decision, the kitten dropped a chunk of toilet paper from its mouth and trotted over to Harry, looking up and meowing quietly at him. Harry reached down and picked it up, and looked at Ginny with a very perplexed expression.

"Is this yours?" he asked her.

"I don't think so, although I've seen him before. I think he likes to come in here to play." Harry continued to study the cat and then remembered that he was the master of an estate with two very resourceful house elves.

"Dobby?" he called out, reluctantly. With a small pop the elf appeared in Ginny's bathroom.

"Yes, Harry Potter, sir?" Dobby turned and bowed to Ginny, who smiled at him and waved.

"Do you know whose cat this is?" Dobby beamed and nodded very quickly, glad to be able to help.

"It is Harry Potter's cat, sir."

"Mine?"

"Yes, sir. They has always lived with the Potters, sir. But they is special cats. Very special and very smart. They is smart like kneazles and they is magic like a house elf."

"They?" Ginny asked.

"Oh, yes. This is only the baby, Miss Wheezy. There once was mother and father cats, too. They was knowing the grounds very well, and knowing when things was not right. They was very helpful, just like Dobby is helpful." He beamed. Ginny forced herself not to chuckle at him.

While she was distracted looking at Dobby, she did not notice the kitten gear up on its haunches and leap across the space between her and Harry. Harry gave a yelp as the little grey fur ball sprang from the light hold he had on it and pounced on Ginny's shoulder. Ginny gasped, but caught it thanks to practiced Seeker reflexes. She looked at her new attachment, and its eyes looked like they were dancing in merriment. Then it cocked its head to the side and studied her thoughtfully.

Ginny thought that, for a cat, it acted an awful lot like a person.

"Does it have a name?" she asked Dobby.

"No, Miss Wheezy. He is not having a name because Mr. Harry Potter has not named him."

"What about his parents, did they have names?"

"Yes, because Mr. James and Miss Lily named them." At hearing his parents names, Harry froze, and in anticipation of Harry's discomfort, Ginny did, too. Seeing them both uneasy, Dobby explained himself. "You see, Harry Potter, sir, these is special cats. Very rare and very special. They is connected to the family who owns them, like house elves, but there is one for each wizard. One for Mr. James, and one for Miss Lily, and now that you has come home, one for Mr. Harry Potter." _So he's an orphan like Harry_, she thought sadly.

Harry still looked dumbstruck by this new information, while Ginny was distracted by the kitten nuzzling her affectionately. She smiled and tugged at him when he began to alternately lick her hair and swat at it. Holding him with both hands to keep him just out of reach of her red tresses, she looked at Harry.

"So, what are you going to name him?"

"I don't know. Why don't you name him?"

"Me?"

"Yeah. You named Pig, didn't you? I think that worked out pretty well. Why don't you give this one a go." Ginny shrugged and looked back at the kitten, who was still batting its paws at her hair. She held him up to look him in the eye, and he cocked his little head again, as if trying to figure out what she was doing.

Ginny thought of the small category of things that she and Harry had in common, which inevitably brought her to the Chamber of Secrets. Her mind leapfrogged through names and words associated with that harrowing experience, until she unexpectedly landed on something that made her smile.

"Herpo." Harry's eyebrows raised in uncertainty.

"Herpo?

"Yes."

"Like Herpo the Foul?"

"Yes."

"As in, Herpo the Foul who invented basilisks?"

"Yes." He paused before responding, his face a model of utter confusion. Ginny smirked.

"Why on Earth would I name my cat after the nutter who invented the gigantic snake that almost ate us?"

"Hey, you were the one who said I could name your damn cat. If you recall, Ron wasn't exactly thrilled with what I named his owl." Harry considered this, and then shook his head as if it would clear things up. Running one hand through his hair while the other was perched on his hip, Harry was the spitting image of his father. But of course, neither of them knew this. Ginny turned to the kitten and brought it up close to her face.

"How do you feel about the name 'Herpo'?" she asked it. It meowed and licked her face. Triumphant, Ginny looked up at Harry and smiled at him. Putting his hands up in defeat, Harry sighed and conceded.

"Alright, Herpo it is. But seriously, why that particular name? Why not 'Smokey' or 'Fuzz' or some normal cat name?" Ginny was slightly taken aback by his serious tone.

"Well, I couldn't very well name your cat after something that had nothing to do with you, could I? So I thought of what we have in common, and basically that comes down to Quidditch and Voldemort." Harry's face went quickly through a series of emotions, beginning with shock, moving on briefly into anger, then to thoughtfulness, and ending in realization.

"You said his name."

"Yes, well, obviously _not_ saying his name didn't keep us from being attacked by Death Eaters, did it?" Ginny countered, hoping that her voice sounded more confident than she felt. Old habits died hard, it seemed. "Besides, I've been on a first-name basis with that git for years. And _Voldemort_ isn't any harder to say than _Tom Riddle_, as it turns out. Three measly little syllables. You'd think my idiot brother would be able to handle that. But no, he's six-foot-four and bloody huge and afraid to death of things like words and spiders." Harry smiled at the last part.

"Well, I can't say I blame him for being afraid of Acromantulas. _I'm_ afraid of Acromantulas. They _are_ scary, especially when hundreds of them are chasing you and trying to eat you. Noticing a theme, here? Hey, maybe I'll name my next pet Aragog. Or wait, who invented Acromantulas? If I had a pet for every time someone tried to kill me we'd have a bleeding zoo at Spinners End."

Ginny took one hand off of Herpo to punch Harry in the arm, though she could not help chuckling. Herpo immediately took advantage of the opportunity and returned to batting at her hair with gusto. It was nice to see Harry smile. Standing there, talking casually about the Chamber of Secrets and Acromantulas, of all things, with this riot of a cat and toilet paper strewn everywhere, he was almost. . .playful. And now they had an inside joke, one that Ron and Hermione didn't know about.

As if reading her mind, Harry added, "Bugger, can you imagine what Hermione would say if she heard me joking about that?" Ginny laughed at the notion. And then went into an eerily perfect imitation of the girl.

"Harry! How can you joke about that! Dark wizards are trying to kill you, so there's no time for laughter! I'm going to the Library." She smiled as Harry chuckled. They fell into silence, and Ginny did not want it to get awkward. She suddenly remembered that they were standing in her bathroom of all places, and noticed that somewhere in their conversation, Dobby had disappeared. She motioned to Harry to walk back into her room and continued with her explanation of Herpo's name.

"Anyway, the biggest thing we have in common is Voldemort, and all that started with the Chamber of Secrets. The basilisk was a big part of that and I thought 'Herpo' sounded cute." He shot her a patronizing look.

"Well, as long as it's _cute_, I don't see how I could possibly complain." She smirked.

"Potter, it's a bloody cat, not a bulldog. I don't think your masculinity is going to implode because I think your cat's got a cute name. Most people will probably get stuck on the bit about basilisks and never even get to the innate cuteness." She smiled and looked at Herpo, as if addressing him. "Let's go see if lunch is ready."

The cat meowed in agreement, and Ginny passed Herpo back to his owner, who, despite his earlier protests against cuteness, could be caught nuzzling the small grey kitten on his shoulder as they trekked down for lunch. Ginny felt she could have kissed him right then, but quickly thought better of it.

Dinner that night had been a lively affair, as the twins had dropped in for some home-cooked food. Harry sat next to Ginny, and she tried desperately not to laugh when Hermione resumed the persistent inquiry she had started at lunch about where he'd been all morning. His answer was that he had been studying, which technically wasn't a lie, and though that answer mollified her a bit, she was still keen to know where Harry had been.

Ginny thought she was really getting to be obnoxious and—with confidence born of their conversations that morning—for once, didn't think twice about intervening, and promptly blurted out: "Well, why do you care so much where he goes? You don't see _me_ all day and you don't feel the need to ask _me_ where I go and what I do. It's his bloody house. He doesn't need to get your bloody permission just to use the loo."

At this outburst, Hermione had reddened in embarrassment, Mrs. Weasley glared at her daughter with disapproval, Remus attempted to cover a smirk, the twins snickered, and Harry looked down at his plate to hide his smile. Ginny apologized without much sincerity, and there were no more questions about Harry's whereabouts after that.

Before going to bed that night, Ginny sat down to write Percy a note to thank him for his part in getting her broom. Thinking about Percy naturally led to thinking about the Ministry and the war against Voldemort, and Percy's estrangement from the family brought to mind his personal flaws and the extent to which others might share them.

Ginny knew that Hermione had always gotten along better with Percy than Ginny herself had, not to mention better than Ron or the twins. Harry had been relatively indifferent toward Percy until last year when Super-Git had written that absurd letter to Ron and acted like such a prat. But Ginny could see that the difference between Hermione and Percy was simply a matter of degree.

Ginny suspected that if Hermione hadn't been so starved for friendship when she first befriended Harry and Ron, things might have worked out differently with her. Not that Ginny thought Hermione would ever in a million years betray Harry, but she couldn't escape the fact that, like Percy, Hermione was ambitious and obsessively concerned with high marks and approval from authority figures.

In Ginny's humble opinion—and, she guessed, Harry's as well—both Percy and Hermione put far too much faith in the adults around them, assuming the near infallibility of figures like Dumbledore and McGonagall. And in Percy's case, Cornelius Fudge. Ron was always ready and willing to break the rules, of course, but he was usually quick to put faith in what adults said.

Needless to say, Harry and Ginny did not. If they had one personality trait in common, it was that they held the opposite assumptions. At a young age they both had learned the hard way that adults—even the most powerful wizard of the age—are not infallible, that they ultimately could not protect them from Voldemort (even at Hogwarts), and that authority figures are prone to making mistakes in judgment almost as much as teenagers.

But as the summer wore on, Ginny could see that Harry had actually become distrustful in addition to being more independent-minded like Ginny was. Not that she could blame him, especially after learning that Dumbledore had been holding out about Spinners End. The main exception to Harry's general cynicism toward adults was Remus, though she thought that Harry held a certain respect for Tonks and Mad-Eye Moody as well.

At any rate, Ginny had detected in Harry a decidedly cool attitude toward Dumbledore, and even toward her own parents, particularly when her mum treated him like a child.

As to her parents, Ginny was pretty sure she understood why. First, Harry wanted to be left alone, or at the very least he didn't want people to treat him differently because of what happened. Ginny knew all about that feeling, which was why the only people she could stand to be around following the events in the Chamber of Secrets were Fred and George.

Plus, Harry had never had a mum to fuss over him during his entire life, and while it might have been a welcome comfort in the aftermath of the Triwizard Tournament, it would not be now that the one true parent figure Harry had allowed himself to love and trust completely had been taken away from him. Especially given her mum's history of rocky collisions with Sirius on matters concerning Harry.

And Ginny would bet her new Cleansweep Retro that every time her mum went to fret and fuss over Harry, he wasn't remembering the time she referred to him as practically being her son. Instead he was recalling (and resenting) all the implicit statements and digs she ever made about Sirius being in Azkaban or being an unfit guardian.

For her own part, Ginny knew where Harry was coming from with respect to her mother, and couldn't say that she disagreed one bit. She remembered hearing her say those things to Sirius, and it had made her angry as well. Obviously, Ginny wasn't too pleased with her mother if she was keeping all these secrets from her. A mother who doted on the Prefects and Head Boys in the family above the others would certainly want to know that her daughter might skip ahead in three classes.

As for the headmaster, Ginny trusted Dumbledore to keep her confidences and to provide advice based on his extensive experience, but she knew, just as Harry did, that when it came to Voldemort and Death Eaters, they would inevitably have to fend for themselves. Likewise, she did not tell Dumbledore everything, and assumed that Dumbledore would not impart any knowledge that he felt the need to withhold.

Ginny firmly believed that knowledge is power, and she wondered if Harry's coldness toward most adults, particularly Dumbledore, had developed as a consequence of learning that lesson.

Ginny remembered quite clearly how Sirius had argued for Harry to be given the opportunity to ask questions about Voldemort and the Order, while her mum had wanted to keep him in the dark. With all that had happened, it was not hard to understand why Harry's countenance darkened whenever Mrs. Weasley tried to be attentive, or why he might believe that the only advocate he could ever trust completely with his life had been Sirius.

While all these thoughts ran through her mind, Ginny finished the note to her brother:

_Dear Percy,_

_I hope this note finds you well. Are you still seeing Penelope? If so, I hope she is also well. Thank you very much for the broom. It was a brilliant present, better than I ever would have imagined a birthday present could be. I know that you are not as Quidditch-obsessed as the rest of them, but that just makes it a more thoughtful gift on your part. Mum and Dad were very happy to see your name on the wrapping, and I think you'll find that responding to Bill and Charlie's olive branch will be the best thing in the long run. The twins and Ron are going to be tough to make up with, and you still have some issues to work out with me as well, but the important thing is that you made the effort. I have grown up a bit since you last saw me, and I would strongly recommend that you not underestimate me—or Harry—when (not if) you renew your relationship with the family. I know pride is very important to you, but it should not have outweighed your loyalty to people who never would have been disloyal to you. It will take you a long time to regain the trust of the youngest of us, so you better come home and start as soon as possible. It's nice to have Bill and Charlie home, but it would be better if all my big brothers were here. _

_I was not made a Gryffindor Prefect, and I am quite relieved not to be. You know I have always taken after the twins that way. Mum is displeased, of course, but my marks are top in my year, so I don't see why she's bent out of shape if I'm not. Ron and Hermione are Prefects again, and Harry has been made Quidditch captain, so we're all relatively pleased with ourselves. Hopefully we'll hear from you soon, and thanks again for the wicked broom. You should try to come to a match this year, as I think our team will be decent despite losing Angelina, Alicia, and the twins. It will help a lot that Harry will be back in his old spot. Stay safe._

_Love,_

_Ginny_

She hoped it conveyed the right mix of willingness to reconcile and caveat that reconciliation would not be easy. Although the twins might hold out just to punish him, Ginny knew that, realistically, she and Ron would just find it hard to trust Percy again. He would have to earn it back, and it would not be easy going.

She suspected that, to Harry, Percy was simply another wizard who made his life harder than it had to be. The fact that Percy was a Weasley would probably end up being the difference between toleration and enemy status where Harry was concerned. With that task completed, she went to bed, mind still humming with thoughts of the day's events.

The remaining days before September 1 were spent studying and Apparating. And playing with Herpo, who had quickly discovered where their study room was. At this development, Dobby, Winky, and Remus no longer had to worry about going upstairs to call them down for meals, since Herpo would always let them know when it was time to eat.

The first time he took a flying leap onto their workspace (disturbing every last page of Transfiguration notes that Harry and Ginny had accumulated over the course of the summer, as well as a bottle of ink) the two teenagers were quite at a loss for the reason behind Herpo's antics. However, when they noted the time and announced a break for lunch, he calmed down immediately and they began to rely on their furry little alarm clock for study breaks.

Herpo spent their study sessions exploring the study, pestering Remus when he was in his room, or curled up on Harry's lap. The only exception to this pattern was the occasional outburst of fascination with Ginny's hair. Batting it around and playing with it had become Herpo's favorite pastime, it seemed.

Whenever Harry would whine or complain, or be otherwise annoying, Ginny formed a habit out of picking up Herpo and talking to him instead of his owner, calling Harry names and generally mocking him until he grudgingly laughed, got the hint and took back possession of his kitten.

About the fourth or fifth time this happened, Harry had voiced his chagrin that Herpo seemed to be a willing accomplice. Ginny told him that his cat liked her better. Harry stuck out his tongue at Ginny, and she laughed, which made Harry smile. Ginny liked it when he did that.

After the two of them had become proficient at Apparating throughout the house, they had devised a game, sort of like tag, where they Apparated all over the house trying to find each other. The point of the game was to improve their Disapparate-Apparate turn around time. Figuring that the situation would eventually arise where they Disapparated somewhere that was not safe or desirable, they wanted to make sure they would be able to Apparate away again immediately.

This skill was encouraged in the game by the fact that they might accidentally Apparate to a room where Ron, Hermione or Mrs. Weasley was situated, and would have to avoid being seen at all costs. It would not do to reveal that they had been illegally practicing Apparation all summer.

The primary side affect of this game (besides tiring them out enough to make them sleep very soundly at night) was that Herpo would go tearing through the house, scampering through all the rooms trying to catch them Disapparating, at which point he would pounce, and then tumble to the ground as Harry or Ginny disappeared again. Remus thought this particular behavior was hilarious, while the others, not knowing about the game, simply figured that the Harry's kitten was, in Ron's words, a nutter.

Hermione eventually chilled out a bit, though she would still occasionally shoot suspicious looks at Harry, and once in a while, at Ginny, too. In return for the decreased pestering, a week before they went back to Hogwarts, Harry started splitting his time between hanging out with Ron and Hermione and studying with Ginny. Ginny was a bit disappointed, but remembered that the situation would have changed anyway when they went back to school.

The subject of returning to Hogwarts finally forced Ginny to think past the safe cocoon that Spinners End had become. During the days she had spent there, it was easy to put Voldemort and Death Eaters out of her mind by focusing her attention on Potions, Defense, and Transfiguration, especially since they were no longer at the hub of Order operations. It was much easier to overlook the constant threat to their safety when Dumbledore and Snape weren't showing up at night and Tonks wasn't bantering with Moody about safety precautions.

But with the school year fast approaching, her thoughts were inevitably led to the war, her place in it, and the dangers they would face the minute they stepped out of Spinners End. It made her worry about how calm it had been all summer (at least as far as they knew, cooped up inside the house). It made her think about her friends, her family, and what she intended to do with the abilities she'd been hiding.

When her mind inevitably latched onto the subject of O.W.L.'s, she remembered that she would soon be forced to sit down with Professor McGonagall and talk about her career plans. Ack. This was not an issue she enjoyed rehashing.

With a war going on, it seemed a bit ridiculous to think about a normal career. She knew Harry had his heart set on being an Auror, but she wondered that maybe he'd much rather play Quidditch if there wasn't a Dark Lord to fight and Death Eaters running about killing all the people he loved. Of course, he might just want to follow in his father's footsteps, which was completely understandable, given that Harry didn't have much of his father to latch on to.

On the other hand, Ginny had the opposite problem, what with being the only girl, and being the baby, and having ridiculously overprotective parents. And a mother who had her life already planned out for her. Ginny had to admit that the defiant-teenager in her had been glad to see the first part of her mum's grand life plan overthrown when Ginny hadn't been named a Prefect. This was followed by a little bit of guilt, because she did love her parents, a _lot_. She was just really sick of having her life managed without her input.

Her mum wanted—nay, expected—her to be a Healer. Bleh. Ginny had no desire to work at St. Mungo's. She seriously doubted that she would be good enough to play professional Quidditch—and knew that, even if it was a viable option, McGonagall would hardly take that suggestion seriously in their career advice meeting. So she would have to come up with another appealing option. Unfortunately, there were very few posts at the Ministry of Magic that even came close to piquing her interest.

She had no desire to be an Auror. Extra years of training and inhumane work schedules did not appeal to her. And the only other jobs at the Ministry that seemed the slightest bit interesting, and where her abilities wouldn't be wasted, were in the Department of Magical Catastrophes and the Department of Mysteries.

Being an Obliviator was definitely out. The thought of erasing someone's memory, even if it was just a small portion, made her queasy. Her own experience with lost memory—during her possession by Tom Riddle—made her aversion to that line of work vehement indeed.

But being an Unspeakable….now _that_ had potential. Having had somewhat of a tour of the Department of Mysteries (in a manner of speaking), Ginny found that she was curious about several of the rooms they had encountered along the way. She wasn't going to lie to herself; there would definitely be a personal motivation to working there. Too many personal things had happened there for it not to be.

What had those brains done to Ron? She wanted to know. Where did Sirius go when he fell through that veil? Were there any other prophecies about Harry or Voldemort, or even herself?

Potions research was also an attractive option, but she felt like it would be too far away from the action, at least until Voldemort was defeated.

Her first choice, quite frankly, was to teach at Hogwarts. Preferably Potions. She loved Hogwarts more than any other place she'd ever been. She loved The Burrow, and she had come to love Spinners End as well, but no place had done more to make her the person she was, or been responsible for happier memories, than Hogwarts.

She wondered if Snape would quit teaching if he was ever free of Voldemort's quasi-enslavement. He certainly didn't seem to enjoy teaching Potions, and she thought he would be much happier (as happy as it was possible for Snape to be, anyway) doing independent research, tucked away in some laboratory with a bunch of other grumpy Potions geniuses, far, far away from the wizarding world's young and impressionable.

Or, god forbid, teaching Defense.

Professor Snape intrigued her more than any other person she'd ever met or heard of. Harry didn't intrigue her exactly, as she generally could figure out what he was feeling and understood why he acted a certain way. She had the goods on Voldemort, too, and Dumbledore's inner workings frankly didn't interest her. But Snape, now _there _was an interesting man. So many mysteries about the guy.

He was basically a prodigy at Potions, which made it impossible for Snape-haters (i.e., non-Slytherins) to challenge his cranky arrogance. And Snape was undoubtedly an arrogant bastard, but he could back it up three times over. She actually wished that he _would_ get the Defense job before she graduated, because if he was that good at Potions, and it wasn't even his first area of expertise. . ._bugger_, how ridiculous must he be with the Dark Arts and Defense? And they could definitely do worse in choosing a Defense teacher, after all they'd seen. At least they could be confident he wasn't trying to do Harry in.

After getting over her fear of him as a second year, Ginny had come to think of Professor Snape as the wizard equivalent of a shark or a crocodile—around since the beginning of time, a bit nasty, and probably going to survive us all. Then again, he _was_ a Slytherin, so a reptilian comparison regarding base survival instinct wasn't monumentally out of line.

Ginny smiled to herself, thinking of Andy, who had perfected an imitation of the Snape Glare. Of course, the result wasn't quite as horrifying, seeing as Andy McGrath was ridiculously good looking and generally the most easy-going bloke you could hope to meet. But he had the gist of it, and he would break it out at both appropriate and random times, to Ginny's endless amusement.

Thinking of Andy made her curse for the millionth time the rule against owling from Spinners End. She desperately wanted to write Luna, Kerney, Andy, and Neville. A quick note to Nadine would be nice, and she was dying to write Katie Bell and her Quidditch friends from other houses about her new broom. Roman Keselica, the Keeper for Ravenclaw, would have kittens if he knew she a brand new Retro.

Another player from her year, Jamie Bowen (the only female Beater at Hogwarts in twenty years) would be excited for the challenge. Jamie and Ginny were both looking forward to the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff match this year, seeing as they would be playing directly opposite each other once Harry resumed his rightful place at Seeker and Ginny moved to Chaser. Jamie rode a Nimbus 3000, the newest of the Nimbus models, sturdier than Ginny's Retro, and perfect for a Beater.

With Fred and George gone, Hufflepuff undoubtedly had the best pair of Beaters in the school. Bruce Healy (who had taken over as captain from Cedric Diggory) would be in his seventh year, and had played with Jamie for two years already. Ginny hoped to Merlin that Harry would be able to find a replacement for at least one of their own Beaters, or that Jack and Andrew had made dramatic improvements over the summer.

Ginny's musings on Quidditch were interrupted when Herpo, who had been curled up in her lap, lifted his head and stared at the door to the study room. Ginny followed the kitten's gaze to the door, and sure enough, moments later, Harry poked his head around the door.

"Hey, Gin," he said.

"Hey, Harry." He took a look to make sure the way was clear and slipped into the room, sitting down in his usual spot at their table. Herpo climbed up Ginny's shoulder, presumably to give himself a better view of his owner.

"Okay, I wanted to ask you about the D.A."

"What about it?"

"Well, Hermione's been pestering me about whether I'm going to keep it up this year." Ginny nodded. "So, what do you think?"

"What did Ron say?" Harry smirked knowingly.

"He agreed with Hermione, of course. He's not going to disagree with her, so his input doesn't really count." Ginny nodded in agreement. And seeing as there was no way to get Ron alone for a private conversation, to find out what he really thought, it seemed a lost cause for the moment.

Truth be told, Ginny was beginning to wonder whether their orchestrated seclusion from Ron and Hermione had been affecting Ron's usually outspoken personality. He had rarely been one to hesitate at speaking up in the past, and of all times for him to back down from Hermione's authoritative manner, this was not the best time for him to start practicing conversational decorum.

"Well, I think you should keep it going. And not just because I want to pass into the N.E.W.T. Defense class." Harry smiled.

"Alright, now if I do stick with it, what are your thoughts on letting more members in?" Ginny had a feeling that Harry had already decided to continue the D.A., and that _this_ was the real question he wanted answered.

"Let me guess, Hermione thinks it would be unfair and terrible if we limited it to last year's members." Harry smiled grimly.

"I was scolded for even suggesting it." Ginny sighed.

"Well, I think that's pretty short-sighted of her, considering. I mean, wasn't _she_ the one who put the hex on that paper we all signed? I don't think we should make it an official school club. If Dumbledore gave it school sanction, we'd have to let everyone in, and some people might want to join just to interfere with our goals." Ginny was sure Harry knew who she was talking about.

"And Hermione doesn't have the best judgment when it comes to these things, does she? I mean, last year, she organized that meeting at the Hog's Head and it practically turned into a sideshow attraction of the Boy-Who-Lived. She really should have known better than to put you up there for everyone to have a go at you. I don't want to have the first meeting of the year turning into a free-for-all of asking you questions about Voldemort. Or Sirius."

"Yeah, I don't want that either."

"I think we could still let in new members, but only by invitation, like the Order does. If we keep it secret, make up another one of those lists, and have each new member sign it, I think we'd have a good system. There are a few people in my year who are definitely on our side and I'd like to get them in as soon as possible."

"All right. That was basically what I thought. If we're going to be doing more difficult spells and things and if we're going to be able to trust each other, I want to know personally every single member. I want to be able to rely on them, and know that we all have each other's back."

"Sounds good to me," Ginny replied. At that moment, Remus came through the door connecting his room to the study. Herpo sprang from where he had been resting on Ginny's shoulder, hopped across the desk, and leapt at an amused Remus, who caught and cradled him deftly as he spoke to the teenagers. Ginny suspected that Herpo knew Remus was a werewolf, and was basking in their kinship as animals.

Smiling at Herpo's obvious affection for him, Ginny said, "Hi, Remus."

"Hello. Harry, I was told by a very insistent witch that I am sternly to instruct you that under no circumstances are you to limit membership of the D.A." Ginny and Harry shared a look of exasperation.

"Well, _this_ witch insists that you instruct _that_ witch very sternly to _sod off_," Ginny replied. Remus and Harry smiled.

"I thought as much," Remus said.

"We were just talking about that," Harry added. "What do you reckon?" he asked Remus.

"I think it is completely up to you, but I would agree that limiting membership to invitation-only is probably the wisest course of action. Harry, no one has suffered from the betrayal of secret organizations more than you and I, and if you pointed that fact out to Hermione, I think she'd shut her mouth about it." Harry nodded somberly at this, his thoughts obviously on the three people he had lost from those betrayals.

"Okay, good," he said finally.

"That means you two are going to be quite busy this year, what with secret Defense clubs, secret extra studies, and Quidditch on top of your O.W.L. and N.E.W.T classes."

"Speaking of secret Defense clubs, do you know who our new Defense teacher is going to be?" Ginny asked. Remus shook his head.

"Unfortunately, I do not. I'd actually like to know, myself."

Classes and teachers reminded Ginny that they were leaving for Hogwarts the next day and she still hadn't shown Remus—or Harry—James Potter's Transfiguration book. She figured this was as good a time as any.

"Hey, guys?" she said, with an uncharacteristically tentative voice.

They turned their attention to her, and she swallowed as she bent down to retrieve the book. Remus' eyes lit up ever so slightly as he caught sight of it.

"I don't really know how to say this, but you might want to have a look at one of the books I got from Professor McGonagall." Harry looked at Remus, presumably to find out whether Remus knew what this was about. Remus nodded for Harry to take the book from Ginny, which he did.

As he opened it, and glanced at the inside cover, his eyes widened and his mouth gaped. He began flipping through the pages, and stopped every once in a while when he saw handwriting in the margins. About halfway through, he halted and looked up at Ginny with an unsure expression.

"Have you had it all this time?" Ginny had the courtesy to look abashed at this question. She shrugged.

"Well, I felt very strange when I first got it. You and I weren't really friends until the last couple weeks, and I felt terribly awkward about bringing it up. Now that we've talked a little and have gotten more comfortable with each other, I figured I could give it to you." Feeling the need to make him understand that she wasn't trying to keep it from him on purpose, she continued, more hurriedly.

"I haven't looked at it yet. I don't even know why they gave it to me. I mean, McGonagall wrote it, right? You'd think she could get her hands on another copy. I didn't mean to keep it from you, I just….didn't know how to _give_ it to you. Please don't be mad." Remus and Harry both looked slightly surprised at Ginny's less than confident tone. Then Harry looked unsettled.

"You don't think we were friends before the last few weeks?" _Oh no_, Ginny thought. _Please don't let this add to the massive guilt complex_. _Frick_. She really needed to learn to think before she spoke. She glanced briefly at Remus before settling her gaze back on Harry as she began to speak. What could she do but be honest with him? If no one else would be, that was the least she could do.

"Well, to be honest, I think before last year I could count all of our conversations on one hand. And even last year we didn't exactly talk much. Except for the D.A., I guess. But it's fine, you know. It's not a big deal," she tried to assure him as his scowl continued to grow. "I mean, why would we? You have all these ridiculously huge problems to deal with and I _used_ to have this incredibly embarrassing crush on you. Those two things didn't exactly make for a brilliant combination. We're not even in the same year." She hoped her emphasis on the words "used to" hadn't been too obvious. But the next words almost killed her to say.

"And I'm your best mate's little sister." Harry flinched at this, and Ginny rushed on, not understanding why he was so jarred by that fact or why she was losing her composure like this. She had never spoken to Harry frankly about their relationship (or lack thereof) before. It was becoming increasingly obvious that she hadn't known what she was getting herself into.

"My parents adore you. My brothers adore you." _Well, not Percy_, she reminded herself. "Plus, you saved my life. You've got my loyalty without question. I never expected that to make us friends. And it's okay, I _have_ friends. Lots of them. I don't want you to feel like you have to talk to me out of some sense of guilt or duty to Ron or my parents. That's not how friendship works, Harry. Friendship requires effort and investment.

"But family is different; family is automatic. It's duty and brotherhood and unconditional support. At the very _least_ you're part of our family by now, so even if you hadn't freed me from Tom, I'd still be behind you. You're my brother's best mate. You're the inspiration to defeat the Dark Lord. And after what he did to me, after what he did to my uncles, and what he did to Sirius, I would still be as angry and as ready to fight Voldemort as I am now, regardless of whether we're friends or not."

Ginny was straining for control at this point, both to keep the emotion out of her voice and to keep her magic under control. As she slowly took deep breaths to calm herself down, she saw that Remus' eyes were shining, mysteriously wet, and Harry looked stricken. Ack. That was not the reaction she had been trying to get from Harry. She cleared her throat and tried to fix it.

"But like I said, the last few weeks have been great. We _are_ friends now, I think. We've talked quite a bit, we've been playing a secret game, and your cat likes me." She smiled a small smile. "So don't worry about anything. What matters is that we _are_ mates now, and you have your dad's book. Quidditch will be that much more fun because we're friends, and Potions will be bearable. Why are you looking at me like that?"

_Oh, Merlin_.

Harry looked as though her words had rubbed him raw. She had never seen such untempered emotion and distress on his face and in his body language, with the exception of his reaction to his letter from Sirius. Remus was quite obviously becoming uneasy at witnessing what was ostensibly a very personal conversation. Ginny could see him standing behind Harry, trying to keep his eyes on the tiny grey kitten he was holding.

Ginny was desperate to know what was going on inside Harry's head, and was frantically wondering what in the name of Agrippa had possessed her to say all of those things to him. While they may have been true, she figured she could have used a bit more tact. The silence was starting to be unbearable and Ginny wondered if Harry would ever say anything. Finally he did, but it was in a small, almost strangled voice.

"Was it really that embarrassing to have a crush on me?" Well _that_ sure wasn't what she was expecting. He looked miserable, while her face and neck burned with self-consciousness.

"Of course it wasn't. I just meant that you hardly needed some silly little girl sending you singing cards and knocking things over all the time when you had much bigger things to deal with," she explained. And then she sighed and closed her eyes, leaning her forehead into her hand. "I meant it was embarrassing for _you_."

Merlin, Ginny had never felt so humble in her life. She couldn't decide whether to be completely humiliated on her own account, or upset that Harry looked so distressed. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. Harry continued to ponder what she had said, and finally nodded (whether to himself or to Ginny, she did not know). When he made no motion to speak, Ginny's restlessness prevailed and she stood up.

She cleared her throat at the sudden urge she felt to cry, and quickly packed up her books as Harry watched her. "I need to go pack my trunk," she choked out. "Mum will kill me if I don't get it done today." She smiled weakly. "See you at supper."

And with that she closed her eyes and Apparated to her room. Dropping her bag of books on the floor, she fell on her bed and somehow managed to fall asleep without crying. She slept through dinner, and woke later that night to find a tray of warm food, and a table and chair that must have been conjured by Dobby or Winky. After eating, she packed and fell asleep at Spinners End for the last time until Christmas.

There was a certain comfort to putting on a pleated skirt, knee socks, an oxford shirt, and worn-in Dr. Martens again. It was the same comfort she found waking up in her four-poster in the girl's dormitory of Gryffindor Tower, where she could turn to her left and know Nadine would be there, still asleep like the dead, or she could roll back over to her right, knowing that Kerney would already be awake and probably in the shower. She smiled at the thought. Just a few hours and she'd see her friends again.

She could really use some of that comfort now, Ginny thought to herself. She still didn't know what had gotten into her yesterday, but was not excited about the prospect of spending the whole day traveling with Harry. And Hermione and Ron would be busy with Prefect duties all day. Great. She really hoped Neville and Luna sat with them again.

With a crimson and gold striped tie hung loosely around her neck, Ginny rolled her sleeves up to just below her elbows, put her hair into a ponytail, and turned to her trunk. As she ran through her last-minute checklist and locked her trunk one last time, she could hear her mother yelling up for everyone to hurry downstairs or they were going to be late. Grabbing her trunk in her right hand and her Retro's box in her left, she dragged her school things out into the hall to be levitated down the stairs.

Harry appeared next to her, trying to negotiate both Hedwig and Herpo, but the wily kitten was not making it easy. While things were still more than a little awkward after their conversation the day before, when Harry shot her a weary look, Ginny attempted a small smile and took Herpo off his hands. They headed downstairs and were ushered to the fireplace by a predictably frazzled Mrs. Weasley, who told them to floo right away and not wait for Ron and Hermione.

Harry motioned for her to go first, but Ginny thought it was more because he wanted to put off having to floo for as long as possible, than because of any feelings of chivalry. Harry _hated_ to floo. Come to think of it, Ginny didn't like it very much either.

Stepping into the fireplace, she threw down her floo powder and yelled, "Grimmauld Place." She was just starting to contemplate that she had forgotten exactly how much she disliked flooing, when she was tossed unceremoniously through the fireplace at her destination, colliding with someone in the kitchen. That someone had caught her awkwardly around the waist, and managed to do so without the two of them falling over.

Head still looking down and checking to make sure she still had Herpo in one hand, she used the person's arm to steady herself with the other. When she did, she looked up to see that her helper was Draco Malfoy.

Starting at this realization and backing away, she inadvertently squeezed Herpo a little too hard and he let out a small yelp. This briefly drew her and Draco's attention to the kitten, but they were soon drawn back into eye contact again. Ginny gulped as she tried to make out whether she was more curious at his presence in Order headquarters or distressed at having been in his quasi-embrace.

For his part, Draco looked uncharacteristically baffled and, upon noticing that her Gryffindor tie had flung itself over his shoulder when they collided, Ginny snorted with amusement. At his questioning look, she stepped forward and plucked the tie from his shoulder and hesitated before backing away again completely.

"Um, thanks," she offered tentatively. "Er. . .sorry for running into you." Draco didn't respond except for a nod to convey his recognition of what she had said.

At that moment, Harry came tumbling out with Hedwig's cage (and a screeching Hedwig), knocking Ginny over again, but all the way to floor this time.

When they had finally ceased moving, she looked at Harry, who quickly must have realized he was lying completely on top of her, because he blushed crimson and looked down to where their bodies met, snapping his head back up when she said his name.

"Harry," she said quietly to get his attention. He looked her in the eye and when she raised her eyebrows in expectation, the light bulb went on and he clumsily tried to pick himself up.

"Erm, sorry, Ginny." Once he was up and Hedwig's cage was righted, he leaned down and offered her a hand to help her up, which she took, trying (she hoped not in vain) to keep her skirt covering what it was supposed to. Harry's face was still flushed and he did not seem able to decide whether to stare at her or avoid her eyes completely. Feeling someone staring at her from her other side, Ginny turned back to Malfoy, but he had already turned to look at Harry, smirk back in its usual place.

"Bet you enjoyed that, didn't you, Potter," he drawled, his familiar sneer back in all its arrogant brilliance. If it was possible, Harry turned even more red, and then his brow furrowed.

"Bugger off, Malfoy," he responded, clearly annoyed. Then a perplexed expression took over his face. He turned to find Tonks standing behind them, and promptly asked, "What the hell is _he_ doing _here_?" Tonks' whole body sagged a bit to express what Ginny thought was weariness, and the Auror sighed.

"Aunt Cissa owled my mum to ask if I could help my _dear _cousin. Seems he's decided he's not cut out for Tom's little troupe of terror. Didn't want that nasty black skull mucking up his _beautiful_ Malfoy complexion." Draco scowled as she spoke, but made no move to interrupt her. Ginny and Harry looked back and forth between them, plainly surprised that he had not snapped back with some type of nasty response. Tonks saw this and grinned in a manner Ginny thought was a bit too much like Fred and George.

"Oh, he won't say anything back, he's learned his lesson about crossing me. He must have forgotten that his only cousin spent her free time after Hogwarts training to be an Auror. I don't think he likes Aurors very much, but he may have just learned that from his old man." To Ginny and Harry's continuing shock, Draco didn't flinch with anger or lash out at Tonks. They shared an incredulous look and turned back to Draco, whose shoulders had slumped. His face was tired and carried little of its usual resentfulness.

Just then, Ron came sliding out of the fireplace with Pig, not falling since he was already half on the ground as he arrived. Ginny snorted and Harry smiled. Draco rolled his eyes.

Soon after, Hermione landed softly and easily on her feet, Crookshanks nestled in one arm. Remus followed, explaining that their luggage had been taken straight to Hogwarts.

Then Ron noticed Malfoy standing next to Harry and Ginny. Hermione must have sensed the coming explosion, because Ron had barely started to yell when he was promptly shut up with a well-placed elbow to the ribs. It looked like Hermione had actually knocked the wind out of him, and the four of them—including Draco—couldn't help but chuckle at Ron's surprised breathlessness. Tonks unsuccessfully tried to hide a smile.

"Ready to go?" Remus asked the group. Adjusting her hold on Herpo, Ginny nodded and watched as the werewolf pulled a fork out of his pocket. _Portkey, yessss_. "Everybody get a hand in, quickly now." They all reached in and Ginny held onto Herpo tightly as a whirlwind jerked behind her navel, whisking her off to King's Cross.


	5. Who's the Sucker this Year?

**CHAPTER 4**

**Who's the Sucker This Year?**

Ginny landed easily on the deck of Platform 9 ¾, Herpo still clutched comfortably against her chest. Moving her Gryffindor tie from where it had flipped up into her face, she straightened her skirt and looked around to see that they were all obscured from view by brick columns separating Platform 9 ¾ from where the next numbered platform would have been in a normal train station. Having gotten her bearings, she looked past where Harry was standing next to her, only to see Draco already walking away from them, head held high, snobby countenance firmly back in place.

"He didn't waste any time, did he?" she remarked, sharing a roll of the eyes with Harry.

"Ron and I should go check in with the other Prefects," Hermione announced, straightening the big shiny "P" on her robe. She was the only one wearing her school robes, and Ginny wondered why on Earth she bothered with it. Most of the sixth and seventh year students rarely wore them, even at school, and practically no one wore them on September first until they arrived for the welcoming feast.

Well, maybe it was a stretch to say that Ginny _wondered_ why Hermione bothered with the tedious robe; of course she would. This was Hermione, the girl who tried to live her life as revoltingly by the book as was humanly possible.

"We'll find a compartment. See you, then," Harry replied. Hermione and Ron waved goodbye to Remus and set off to fulfill their duties. Ginny turned to Remus as the werewolf turned to his two favorite teenagers. After a moment's hesitation and a glance at Harry, Ginny lurched forward into a hug before she lost her nerve. Squeezing him tightly, almost desperately, she felt a sudden urgency at the thought of departing without him.

"Goodbye, Remus," she said, as his arms tightened around her. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I'll be fine, Ginny," he replied softly, smoothing down her hair affectionately with one of his hands. "You take care of yourself, okay? Look out for Harry. And give notes to Professor Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall if you want to write me, alright?" Ginny nodded against his shoulder. With one last squeeze, she pulled back and wiped her eyes, looking up into his kind face.

"Please be careful," she said evenly, though the turmoil in her eyes betrayed her uncertainty and worry. Remus nodded and offered a small smile. Ginny backed away to allow Harry a chance to say goodbye. She was nearly knocked to the ground in awe as she watched this six-foot almost-man sink into the gentle embrace of his professor/friend/mentor/uncle. It was the most open, physical affection Harry had ever shown to anyone other than Sirius. Ginny quickly wiped her eyes and choked back tears. _Bloody hell_, she scolded herself. _Don't want to embarrass the bloke_.

Shaking herself out of it, she turned to see people rushing to board the train. When she turned back, Remus and Harry had broken apart, but were huddled together, heads bowed, whispering. Ginny tried to look anywhere other than them. Harry nodded at something Remus said and they both straightened and shook hands—a gesture that looked almost artificial coming on the heels of that hug. Ginny suddenly wanted this effing emotional summer to effing end as soon as humanly possible.

The warning whistle got Harry's attention and, with a last glance of affection at Remus, Ginny grabbed his hand and started gently pulling him toward the train. He soon got the message, but didn't shake her off as they both turned back to the werewolf.

"Be careful," Remus reminded them, not quite reaching his usual standard of composed-ness. Then he told them to "behave themselves" and he nearly smiled. This brought small grins to the faces of the two teenagers who waved kindly and shouted their last goodbyes as Ginny continued without thinking to lead Harry toward the train. Since both their gazes were trained on Remus as they walked away, they were not watching (or rather, Ginny was not watching) where they were going and collided with someone's trolley. Harry's grip on her hand tightened and prevented Ginny from taking her third spill of the day, but when they turned around again, Remus had gone.

Having extracted her hand from Harry's, Ginny used both hands to straighten her skirt. Harry grabbed it back and pulled her onto the train just as the final whistle began to blow.

Ginny sat by the window in a compartment halfway up the train, legs spread in a somewhat un-lady like manner, hands folded around Herpo, who was curled up in her lap and watching the discussion going on across the way. Luna had returned directly from the Prefect's meeting to report that the Gryffindor Prefects were Kerney Scott and Othello Johnson, Angelina's non-Quidditch-playing younger brother. Ron and Hermione had stayed away to complete their first batch of rounds.

The notorious space cadet was perched next to her, taking up two spots as she leaned against the opposite wall of the compartment, knees bent, feet on the seat next to Ginny. Neville sat across from Ginny, with Trevor in his lap and what appeared to be his new wand in his hands. From his slouched position in the corner across from Luna, Harry looked at the wand as Neville explained its attributes and expressed his hopes for higher grades.

Ginny glanced quickly at Luna (who, as usual, appeared not to be paying the least bit of attention, though she undoubtedly was) before returning to her scrutiny of Neville. Something seemed different about him. He was still the clumsy, awkward boy he had always been, but as he fingered his wand and conversed with Harry, there was a lack of. . .was it hesitation? Maybe it was an absence of shame. Whatever the right word was, Neville no longer stuttered, no longer avoided maintaining eye contact with Harry, and spoke articulately. And he looked taller.

Ginny couldn't tell whether it was due to a growth spurt or the fact that, as she had just noticed, he didn't slump his shoulders anymore. His posture was almost ramrod-straight, but not from tension or fear. The way he now held his shoulders back and looked intently between Harry and his wand, exchanging nods and hand motions with the other boy as their conversation shifted from wand attributes to his summer activities, radiated something that Ginny had never associated with him before.

It wasn't confidence. Ginny knew Neville would not have acquired much confidence simply from battling Death Eaters and owning a new wand. Five years of Snape and Malfoy, plus all those years of living with his less-than-encouraging grandmother, would be hard to overcome. But then, what was it? Why did he no longer look out of place having an earnest discussion with the unknowingly intrepid Harry Potter?

It was subtle, but Ginny thought it was almost as if he had been freed of constraints of some type; as if he was no longer being held down by some unseen barrier that had kept his head and shoulders down, kept his voice soft and unheard.

Harry mentioned the D.A., which caused both Ginny and Luna to turn their attention toward him. As he explained the decisions he had made about continuing for a second year, Neville nodded in agreement with several statements, while Luna set her gaze on Harry. When Neville broke in to ask about what they were going to be covering first, and about the possibility of perfecting the Patronus Charm, Ginny inadvertently froze at the memory of the last time she had attempted the spell, causing Luna and Harry to glance at her in curiosity.

Trying to play it off by adjusting Herpo's position in her lap, she kept her eyes carefully trained on Neville. Harry turned back to answer his friend, but Luna kept her eyes on Ginny. Ginny looked at her and they just stared at each other, the red-haired girl doing her utmost to hide her discomfort at such a searching gaze. Luckily, it was broken by a knock and the compartment door opening.

Ron and Hermione bustled into the little room, obscuring the view into the hall, and talking about what they had seen and heard on the train.

"Oh, I'm so relieved," Hermione began. "Slytherin has a new prefect. Draco's still one, of course, but at least Pansy Parkinson's been replaced. Daphne Greengrass is the new one, and she's not an idiot, at any rate." Ron had begun his usual tirade about Malfoy, when another voice floated in through the doorway.

"Ginny?" Her eyes brightened at the familiar voice as Andy McGrath leaned around Hermione to look into the compartment. Ginny immediately sprang up in excitement, and shoved the kitten into Harry's lap as she leapt toward Andy and hugged him tightly.

"Andy! How was your summer?" she asked him, eyes closed as his arms squeezed her tight. She was much more happy to see him than she had anticipated. She was almost overwhelmed by the wave of comfort she felt at having him near again. He was one of the few people that didn't see her as someone's sister or the girl Harry saved in the Chamber of Secrets; rather, the Weasleys were all _her _brothers and Harry's presence was secondary.

She didn't notice that the conversation behind her had stopped abruptly, but as she opened her eyes she did notice a tan, tallish girl with long black hair standing behind Andy in the corridor.

"Nadine!" She smiled happily up at Andy as she broke their embrace and made her way over to her other friend, greeting her with a smile and hug as well. As she approached, she watched Nadine's expression shift from feeling out of place, to a small, warm smile at Ginny.

"Hey Ginny," Nadine replied as she returned the hug. And there they stood, Ginny in the doorway, Andy leaning against the doorframe and Nadine standing opposite Ginny.

"Where are the runts?" Ginny asked, smiling as she spoke. Her friends smiled back.

"Well, your boyfriend is probably trying to talk Nadia out of getting in some type of trouble, and Nadia is undoubtedly buttering him up so that he'll cave. She's got him wrapped around her finger, you know. You better watch out, or you'll soon have some competition for his affections." Nadine rolled her eyes, but failed to completely hide a grin.

"Oy! Ginny!" Ron shouted from within the compartment. Ginny turned half-around so that she was facing Andy and her brother at the same time.

"What?"

"Did he say you've got yourself another boyfriend?" Andy and Nadine burst out laughing, while Ginny rolled her eyes and chuckled. Hermione and Harry looked curious, as they had no clue whether Ginny had a boyfriend or not.

"Yes, he did, you stupid, eavesdropping git! What business is it of yours?" At this answer, Andy and Nadine only laughed harder. Luna smiled at this as well, though the sixth years only became more confused.

"Well, who is it? Not Dean Thomas, is it? I'll hex him if he comes near you." Ginny tried not be too irate with Ron, since she had no feelings or relationship with Dean Thomas whatsoever, other than as fellow Gryffindors and D.A. members. But she still scowled and thwacked him upside the head.

"You'll do nothing of the sort. Stop being an idiot. I don't care a lick for Dean Thomas, I was having you on about that—which, I might say, was far easier than it should have been. But apparently you're the most gullible prat in Britain." Harry and Hermione snickered at Ron's expense, but her brother would not be deterred.

"Then who is it? I don't want you going out with some idiot," Ron demanded. Then his face darkened. "He's not a Slytherin, is he?" Ginny groaned in genuine frustration and without another outlet through which to vent it, she slammed her Dr. Marten-clad foot down on Ron's toes.

"FUCKING HELL!" he yelled, commencing the typical hop-on-one-foot dance of pain. "What the hell was that for, you bloody psycho!"

"Well, you blazing _idiot_, I did it so you would shut your stupid mouth and listen. If you would hold off on being the world's biggest git for just one damn minute, I could have explained that Stephen McGrath has a bit of a crush on me, and so Andy calls him my boyfriend to tease us." Ron looked back and forth between the fifth years, ending back on his sister.

"Who the hell is Stephen McGrath?" he asked, with as little tact as could be expected. Ginny rolled her eyes (yet again) and Andy cleared his throat and tried not to laugh.

"Who is—" Ginny cut herself off, half incredulous and starting to get peeved. "Stevie is Andy's little brother, you stupid git. He's a third year Gryffindor. Bloody mad about Quidditch. Maybe if you gave two Sickles about anyone in Hogwarts besides the three of you, you might actually know some of the Gryffindors outside your year. Or, God forbid, who your _only_ sister's friends are." She hadn't meant to have a go at him, but it had just come out of her mouth before she thought about it. That seemed to be happening more often these days.

She was really beginning to wonder if emotional-Ginny was ever going to cool it, or if she would be on this roller coaster for the rest of her life. Harry and Hermione seemed kind of uncomfortable about what Ginny had said, and Ginny was reminded of the expression Harry had on his face when they were in Dumbledore's office on her birthday and she had told him frankly that there was a lot he didn't know about her. To his credit, Ron looked slightly apologetic.

"Well, there was kind of a lot going on last year, Ginny, _if you remember_," he reminded her. Ginny had been all prepared to return to their more jovial argument, but Ron's comment hit a nerve and set Ginny off again. That last, condescending, 'if you remember' set her eyes ablaze and Harry shifted with discomfort as he was the only one who could see what was coming. Boy, was Ron going to regret saying that.

"So was there 'kind of a lot going on' my first year, too?" she shot back nastily. It was a low blow, and Ginny knew it. But, she couldn't help feeling some demented bit of satisfaction at the way her brother's face blanched and the way Harry and Hermione's faces were gaping with shock. Much like the Christmas before when she had called Harry out for forgetting that she had been possessed by Voldemort.

But Ginny was dead sick of being an afterthought to those three. She never had been with Neville, or Luna, or any of her other friends at Hogwarts. She had no illusions about ever breaking into the trio, but sometimes their collective self-centered-ness made her want to scream and hit things and blow stuff up with her wand. _Or_, she mused in the midst of her anger, _without a wand_. This brought a smirk to her face as she remembered that they were back on the train and able (if not strictly allowed) to use magic.

Just then, Ginny was broken out of her thoughts by Herpo, who had escaped from Harry and was now attempting to climb up her leg. She bent down and snatched him up, switching immediately into an affectionate countenance as she handled the kitten. If anything, this only served to bewilder the sixth years further. Ginny turned to Luna, still nuzzling Herpo.

"Luna, we're going down the train, you want to come?" Luna gave no indication, but stood up and straightened her uniform as she walked over to the door where Ginny was standing.

"See you, Neville," she offered as Luna joined her. "Harry, I'm taking your cat."

With a slight nod toward the hall, she and Luna exited the compartment without a word to the others. Andy and Nadine followed them out.

The passage of a few hours found Ginny farther down the train, laughing so hard her stomach hurt. Holden Fisher had just transfigured Andy's tie into a large, bushy brown wig, put it on his head, and done an absolutely wicked impression of Hermione. He had her huffy sigh down to an art form.

As she laughed, Herpo struggled to keep his balance precariously on her thigh. She was sitting on the floor of the compartment, legs spread out in front of her, with Andy next to her and Colin sitting up on the seat behind her. From her seat next to Colin and behind Andy, Nadine was peppering "Hermione" with questions about studying and following the rules, to which "Hermione" would insistently huff, stamp his foot, and make various condescending retorts. The room was positively roaring with laughter.

"Where'd the Kernel run off to?" Ginny asked when the compartment began to settle down again.

"Rounds," several people answered at once. Ginny nodded, still unsure as to whether Kerney's new position would prove to be a blessing or an unmitigated annoyance.

"Still can't believe Dumbledore made a Slytherin Head Boy," Colin commented.

Ginny had a feeling that Colin's fervent devotion to Harry had incited this sudden skepticism. Too much time watching Ron instead of Harry, she mused. Perhaps the boy had begun to follow her brother as a model of Potter-loyalty.

"Ramsey's alright," Ginny countered. "His family's not nearly as snobby—or shady, for that matter—as the Malfoys. He's probably the most decent bloke Slytherin's ever seen. And Katie Bell is mates with his sister. Even if he wanted to abuse his position, Gretchen would tear him to pieces before any of us would even have the chance." Andy nodded thoughtfully in agreement.

Though she hadn't actually gotten to play Quidditch against the Slytherin Keeper the previous year, Baron Ramsey had surprised and impressed Ginny on several occasions. As soon as she'd been picked to replace Harry, Baron began nodding at her in the hallways between classes and in the Great Hall. He even wished her luck in the Quidditch final. Ginny had been surprised at first, and endlessly amused ever since. He called her by her formal name, Ginevra, which she usually hated, but for some reason, it tickled her that he did so.

By the end of the year, whenever she saw him around school, he would nod to her and say "Ginevra" in an approving sort of way, at which point she would kind of half-curtsey and return with a solemn "Baron," and be off. It was all she could do not to burst out laughing at the formality that the Weasley family so obviously lacked. After a while, she thought she began to detect a hint of a smirk as her gestures of nobility became more and more exaggerated.

But she was under no illusions about his purity of virtues or connections. He had asked after her health following her release from the Hospital Wing after the excursion to the Department of Mysteries, and gave her the distinct impression (almost as if he had wanted her to know) that he knew more or less what had transpired. And there were not very many ways in which he could have gotten that kind of information.

Nevertheless, he had always been a fair-minded Prefect and one of the only members of the Slytherin Quidditch team who refused to stoop to the lows that Malfoy and the others did. Ginny wondered if this history of good behavior was evidence of his virtue or simply a result of his twin sister's well-known views and connections.

Gretchen Ramsey was an assertive, outspoken, but ultimately kind (if intimidating) young woman. Though not a Quidditch player herself, she was closely associated with Katie Bell and was her brother's biggest fan. Moreover, she was a vocal opponent of the unspoken rule in her house that excluded girls from playing on the House team.

In the eyes of many Gryffindors, her finest moment had come in Ginny's first year when Gretchen had publicly lambasted Malfoy for being an "arrogant little toerag," telling him that if he didn't learn some respect he'd end up dead, like so many other Death Eaters, or even worse: a greasy git like his father.

At any rate, Ginny didn't believe there was anything to fear in the Ramseys.

"This year going to be dangerous, do you reckon?" Andy leaned over and whispered in her ear, keeping one eye on the mischievous Herpo and one hand behind his head to guard against Nadine, who had taken to periodically whacking the back of it when she wanted to know something. (Ginny had a hunch that she did this more to remind him of her close proximity, but since Andy seemed to think Nadine's explanation was sufficient, Ginny thought it best not voice her suspicions. Best not to open _that_ can of worms just yet).

"Hard to say," Ginny responded as Nadine struck again. When Andy had turned back from making a face and pinching Nadine (who yelped in surprise), Ginny continued. "Probably."

Andy made another face, this time in consternation rather than playfulness. Herpo chose that moment of distraction to creep over next to Andy and lick the boy's hand. Andy jumped in surprise as Herpo scampered back to the relative safety of Ginny's lap. At Andy's pseudo-rage, Ginny (and by the sound of it, Nadine) chuckled with delight.

"Ruddy cat's a menace!" Andy insisted, as this was the fourth time Herpo had snuck up on him. Andy was not the biggest fan of cats the world had ever seen, especially ones that licked him for sport. Ginny thought this was one of the primary reasons that Nadine had requested a cat for a pet back in third year. Herpo seemed to sense Andy's aversion immediately and had apparently set out to exploit it for his and the two girls' own amusement.

"Where'd you get the bloody thing, anyhow?" Andy asked, keeping a suspicious glare on the little grey beast as it played with Ginny's tie.

"Oh, he's not mine," Ginny supplied without a second thought. When she stopped he looked at her in question. "He's Harry's."

At the mention of Harry's name all conversations in the compartment halted and the other fifth years turned their attention to Ginny. She was startled to find that she now had everyone's undivided attention.

"What are you doing running about with Harry Potter's cat?" Holden asked.

"He likes me," Ginny answered simply. The room erupted in chatter.

"Potter _fancies_ you!" Artemis Howard blurted to the small room, both in shock and excitement.

"Er. . .no. . .the _cat_ likes me."

Ginny hoped the blush she felt rising in her cheeks wasn't too noticeable. Recovering from her falter quickly, she held the kitten up to her face in what had become her usual manner, and addressed him.

"Isn't that right, Herpo?" she said to him affectionately.

"Herpo?" several people asked at once.

"Harry named the cat after Herpo the Foul?" Colin added, a tad incredulous.

"Bloke's got a better sense of humor than I would have expected," Andy observed quietly.

"Actually, _I _named him," she whispered back. Andy smirked and shook his head knowingly at Ginny.

"I should have known."

Turning from what she had thought was a private exchange with Andy, Ginny was again startled to find everyone's eyes still trained on her. Luckily, Kerney chose that instant to burst through the compartment door, more disheveled than Ginny had ever seen her.

"Gin!" she practically yelled, without a trace of the camaraderie and affection that Ginny had been expecting after more than two months separation. She quickly forgot to be put out once she registered the look of urgency in Kerney's eyes. The new Prefect must not have wanted to cause a rush over whatever was wrong, because she quickly collected herself.

"Could you help me with something?" she continued nonchalantly. She glanced almost imperceptibly at Luna. "And maybe Loony should come, too. I have a question about Charms that I need to take care of."

"Whatever the good Kernel needs." Ginny mock-saluted her friend as she tried to cover her sense of alarm with some cheek. Whether anyone else in the room saw through Kerney's bullshitting, Ginny didn't wait to find out. Handing Herpo off to a mildly protesting Andy, Ginny shared a small glance with Luna and rose from her seat calmly. "We'll be back. Don't miss us too much."

Turning briefly to Andy, who (it appeared) had already submitted to Herpo's iron will, she tried to insert one more joke to lighten the atmosphere. "Andrew O'Connell McGrath, don't kill the little beast. I don't think Harry wants to be the Boy-Whose-Cat-Died in addition to everything else." With a smirk, she and Luna left, followed by an uncharacteristically stone-faced Kerney.

Once the door shut and they were safe from eavesdroppers, Kerney took off at a run, dragging Ginny with her.

"I saw Draco and his idiots heading down—" she explained as they ran "—to Harry's compartment." _Pant. Dodge perplexed-looking first years. Breathe._ "And Hermione and your brother left for their next set of rounds already—" _dodge fourth year. Pant_. "So it's just him and Neville in there. . ." At this, Ginny bolted past her Prefect friend, Luna fast on her heels. _Who knew Luna could run like that?_

Ginny could hear Malfoy's obnoxious, drawling voice floating out into the hall and slowed down to a walk so she could collect herself for the coming confrontation. Facing Malfoy (any Malfoy, it seemed) always required calm nerves and a quick mind. Ginny preferred not to sound like a bloody retriever after a romp in the park. _Deep breath_.

Putting her hair into a new ponytail quickly, she glanced gratefully at Kerney, who gave an encouraging look in return and took her cue to leave. Luna squeezed her shoulder lightly to let her know she was right behind her. Naturally, her newly achieved calm did not last.

At hearing Malfoy say the words "mutt" and "got what was coming to him," Ginny quickly forgot herself in anger and let her emotions—and her magic—briefly rush out of control. One of the glass panels adjacent to the doorway of Harry's compartment burst and shattered.

Thinking quickly, Ginny grabbed her wand to prevent suspicion about her wandless capabilities and entered the small room to find gaping expressions on the faces of Neville, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. Harry, however, looked as though something had dawned on him, and his eyes glittered knowingly.

Ginny wondered briefly whether Malfoy was just going through the motions of his usual terrorism to keep up appearances after he showed up at Grimmauld Place so unexpectedly. Whether he was or not, Ginny decided to have a bit of fun with this. She pointed her wand at his chest and stepped up into his personal space. He tensed ever so slightly at her close proximity.

"If you don't shut your whiny little mouth right this instant, I swear to Merlin you will live to regret it." She glanced meaningfully at the gaping hole where the glass panel used to be. "Or maybe you _won't_." And on the _won't_ she jabbed the wand into his chest for emphasis.

In the back of her mind she noticed that the waves of magic she could usually feel spreading out through her torso and limbs were now rolling off her, radiating out of her very skin.

_Well, bugger me_, Ginny thought with some well-hidden surprise. _The gits actually have the courtesy to look scared_.

When Draco and the other two Slytherins made no move to leave, Ginny sighed in exasperation and tried again.

"Are you going to get your pale, bony little arse out of here, or do you need a refresher course in my Bat-Bogey Hex?" Malfoy flinched at the words 'bony' and 'Bat-Bogey.' Crabbe and Goyle looked themselves over in obvious surprise when she said the former. _As if_, she snarked silently, containing a snort of amusement.

In a delayed reaction, Malfoy collected himself, cleared his throat, and turned to Harry.

"You better watch your back, Potter," he growled, but to much less effect than in previous years. Crabbe and Goyle tried to look menacing.

"No worries, there, mate," Neville replied, to the Slytherins' surprise. "We'll be watching his back, too." Ginny smiled as the three Death Eaters' children made their way out at last.

"Draco is an extraordinarily poor actor," Luna mused out loud. So her mind was exactly where Ginny's was, it seemed. Harry looked surprised, whether at Luna's general perceptiveness or the fact that she had noticed a difference in Harry's nemesis without knowing he'd been at Grimmauld Place that morning, Ginny did not know. Neville just looked perplexed.

"True," Ginny replied with a small smile at her Ravenclaw friend.

"How did you two know to get down here just now?" Harry inquired.

"Kerney saw Draco heading this way. She's one of the fifth year Prefects and saw Ron and Hermione leave for their second batch of rounds. She had passed your compartment earlier and noticed that we weren't with you," Ginny explained. "She doesn't know about Neville being brave and having his own wand now, and she figured you'd need someone to get your back, I suppose."

The Kernel was very good like that. Smart when thinking on the fly and very observant. Ginny was well aware that Kerney did not believe Ginny's excuse of needing "Charms tutoring" the previous year, but it had worked well enough with everybody else to get her and Luna a decent alibi during D.A. meetings. Thankfully, she also knew that Kerney and Andy (who she also suspected did not believe her) would not ask her about it until she was ready to tell them what was going on.

At the very least, the two of them, Nadine, and Colin knew that her family was closely allied with Dumbledore, and they knew she had been the one taken down into the Chamber of Secrets in their first year. They also knew something of the power struggle going on between Voldemort, the Ministry and the headmaster, and she had told them about Percy's estrangement from her family.

But they had always respected completely her need for staying under the radar and keeping things to herself as far as Voldemort was concerned. She wanted them in the D.A. as soon as humanly possible, hopefully with their siblings as well. She did not want them, especially Stephen and Nadia who were younger, to be left vulnerable or unable to protect themselves. She knew very well that Death Eaters made no distinctions between adults and children in their violence.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Ron and Hermione bustling through the doorway, causing Ginny to notice that broken shards of glass still lay scattered in the corridor.

"Where's Malfoy?" Hermione asked, flustered and casting a scolding glare at Ginny's handiwork.

"He moved along pretty quickly once Ginny threatened to give him another taste of her Bat-Bogey Hex," Harry replied with a knowing smirk. If Ron and Hermione had been more perceptive they might have detected that Harry knew something more, but to Ginny's eternal satisfaction, they could be spectacularly thick. Especially when they were together.

She would have to explain herself to Luna, but that wasn't a big deal. Luna would never give her up.

"Who smashed this glass?" Hermione demanded, the threat of lost points clear in her voice.

Harry looked as though he was going to pipe up and take credit for the mess—which made sense since Hermione would be unlikely to take points from him, especially given his known history of performing forceful accidental magic when he was distressed. Ginny appreciated his loyalty, but decided she could fight her own battle this time. And frankly, Hermione needed to stop being so damn condescending about her Prefect status. Ginny was constantly thanking Merlin that it hadn't rubbed off on Ron yet. She hoped it never would.

When Harry made to speak up, Ginny cut him off.

"It was me," she said casually. By the looks of them, neither her brother nor Hermione had been expecting her to be the one to answer. "Seems Malfoy's a bit skittish around me, eh Harry?" She turned to the black-haired boy with a smirk.

"Skittish like a ferret, I'd say," Harry replied, with a rare full grin. Ron's expression changed from surprise at his sister's action, to surprise at Harry's show of delight, and finally a hint of pride at Ginny's getting the best of his rival. Hermione scowled at Ginny's nonchalance about breaking the rules. _Surprise, surprise_.

"Ginny," she scolded, hands on hips. "You know you're not supposed to use magic on the train!" Ginny raised her eyebrows in response and held Hermione's gaze with a look that unabashedly said, _do you want to be next?_

Harry coughed loudly and Ginny strongly suspected that he was covering a snort of laughter.

"Sure thing, Hermione. I'll just remind that lot of junior Death Eaters next time they come down here to have a go at your best mate. I'm sure they'll submit to reason when they remember it's _against the rules_." Ginny glared at Hermione patronizingly and the other girl at least had the courtesy to look chastened.

Ginny knew Hermione's loyalty to Harry was unquestionable and that it ultimately took precedent over her obsession with following the rules, but it wasn't a bad way of taking the know-it-all down a peg or two once in a while.

"But what if Draco really is on our side now?" Hermione insisted. "He's probably going to get discouraged now that you've gone and threatened him!"

"Don't be thick, Hermione," Ginny said, quickly getting tired of being treated like a child by someone who often displayed the maturity of one, however wise and grown up she thought herself to be. "If he _is_ against Voldemort now," Ron flinched and Harry hit him, "and I'm not saying that I believe him, but if he is, then he can't exactly go announcing it from the rooftops, can he?" Harry nodded in agreement.

"Just like Snape," he added. "Which works out pretty well for them, I think. Not so well for me. They get to clear their consciences and keep on hating me at the same time. Kill two birds with one stone, and all that." Ginny and Luna chuckled, Harry smiled, and Neville shook his head with amused eyes, obviously wondering when Harry had become the kind of bloke who could joke openly about how much his life sucked.

_Probably about the same time that Neville had started holding his head up_.

Just as Ginny started thinking about heading back to the compartment with the rest of the fifth year Gryffindors, Harry noticed that she was no longer in possession of his cat. His brow furrowed in concern.

Yeah, that urge to kiss him? It was back.

"Where's Herpo?" he asked.

Seriously. The boy was showing open and honest concern for the cat he pretended only to tolerate. And he was standing not five feet away. Ah, if only they didn't have an audience. . .

"Andy's got him," Ginny replied. "We had to make our excuses pretty quickly when the Kernel showed up, and Herpo has been amusing himself taking the mickey out of Andy for most of the trip. I didn't want him here if we ended up in a fight." Harry nodded in acquiescence.

Ginny decided she wanted to leave immediately, both to check on the kitten and to lessen the chance that she would humiliate herself by jumping the boy in front of her. She glanced at Luna with a slight gesture toward the corridor, and Luna nodded once in agreement.

"Well, I don't see anymore threats to Harry's well-being in here. We're going to find snacks." They said their goodbyes and left, hearing a stern "_Reparo!_" as Hermione restored the glass pane to its original position.

"You can do wandless magic," Luna observed casually once they were out of earshot. Ginny thought this was her favorite part of being friends with Luna. She never overreacted or made a big deal out of anything.

"Yes. I discovered it this summer. Only Harry, Remus—"

"—the werewolf—"

"—yes, Dumbledore, and the twins know. And now you. I've given Dumbledore leave to tell McGonagall and Snape if the need arises." Luna nodded. "And I'm taking three O.W.L's early." Luna looked thoughtful as they continued walking.

"Defense. . .Potions. . .and. . .Transfiguration." It was not a question, more of a statement looking for confirmation.

"Yep."

"Professor Snape must be thrilled." Ginny laughed loudly. Luna smirked. They walked in silence for a while, but Ginny knew her friend well enough to know that their conversation was not done.

"Andrew and Nadine are mad for each other." Another statement.

"Pretty much," Ginny agreed, with a sigh.

She loved these talks that she often had with Luna. There were always the same. It was like Luna would run down a checklist waiting for Ginny to confirm her observations, observations which were always dead on. This had the effect of calming Ginny's nerves, served to make sure that the two of them were on the same page, and provided Ginny with a rare but reassuring glimpse of Luna's astute and serious side.

"And you're in love with Harry." _Come again?_ Ginny could barely keep from stumbling as Luna spoke. Scratch that. She was _not_ a fan of Luna's sharp skills of observation. She was quite opposed to them, in fact. But there was no use denying it. Not to Luna, at any rate.

"Yes." Luna nodded.

"He's taken with you."

Ginny's head snapped up and she met Luna's eyes with a suspicious and almost angry glare.

"I didn't say he fancies you. But he _is_ a bit taken with you. You surprise him in a way that no one else ever has. And it agrees with him—he's begun to notice _that_, at least."

Ginny turned back to looking straight ahead as she walked. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but something about Luna's combined bluntness and her way with words (especially when they were trained on Ginny) always made Ginny feel, if not more confident, then certainly less uncomfortable with herself. Ginny gave herself a small smile.

"His cat likes me," she said almost by way of explanation. Luna glanced at Ginny and they shared a grin.

They arrived at the fifth year compartment to find their friends in a small uproar. The lady with the food cart must have already been by seeing as dozens of chocolate frogs were jumping wildly around the compartment. They were quite obviously charmed. _Holden and Colin, no doubt_.

Andy seemed to have succumbed to his fate as he was sitting in the same spot on the floor, with Herpo curled up against his stomach. He looked up at them sheepishly as they entered the ruckus. When Ginny resumed her place next to him, she noticed Nadine's left hand surreptitiously messing with the shaggy blonde locks near the back of his neck while she held a conversation with Artemis across the way.

Sneaking a peek at Nadine, Ginny was more than a little amused to discover that the black-haired girl was making this little show of affection completely unconsciously. _Or was she?_ Ginny grinned. Nadine looked totally distracted by her debate with Artemis about the design of the new Falmouth Falcons uniforms. Her fingers were moving through his hair so lightly and so slowly that Ginny was convinced the girl didn't know she was doing it. Not that Andy seemed to mind, either way.

"What?" he asked at her knowing look.

"Nothing. Give me my cat back."

"Not your cat, Harry's cat." Andy pretended to hold Herpo back protectively.

"Fine. Give me _Harry's_ cat." He held Herpo up to his face, imitating the way Ginny was in the habit of doing.

"Herpo, do you really want to go back to hanging about with a barking mad redhead?" Herpo leaned forward and licked his nose, causing Andy to yelp in distaste and giving Ginny the opening to snatch the kitten from her friend. "Little bastard." Andy scowled, wiping his nose with his shirt sleeve.

"Just because he's cleverer than you, don't take it out on him." Andy rolled his eyes and adjusted his seat, which served to jolt Nadine into realization as to what she'd been doing. Blushing and yanking her hand back, she shook herself briefly and took a deep breath, finally returning to her conversation. When Andy leaned his head back against the seat, Ginny could tell he noticed the absence of her hand.

If she didn't know him quite so well, she wouldn't have noticed his shoulders tense up ever so slightly, or the way his reaction was confined to his dull blue eyes. But she did, and she had.

Slightly annoyed that she could clearly see what the two of them could not (especially while her own affections went torturously unrequited), Ginny resolved that they would get to Hogsmeade on a date by the end of the year. Or a broom cupboard at the very least. She wondered if anything had happened with them over the summer. They didn't seem quite as antagonistic as when she'd left them in June.

Kerney finished the conversation she'd been having with Othello (about rounds, no doubt) and finally came over to sit on the floor next to Ginny, her back to the window. Finally able to greet her friend, Ginny smiled.

"Sorry, I couldn't write all summer," she offered. "Voldemort's a git." She said the second part quietly to avoid reactions by her peers.

"So you're saying his name now?"

"Yes."

"Good. You were being an idiot before."

"I don't hear you saying his bloody name, do I?"

"Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort. Knock yourself out."

"Oy, Scott! Do you reckon you could hold off on tempting the Dark Lord until you're off the train and far away from me?" Andy asked, leaning around Ginny.

"Vol. De. Mort." Kerney could be a little obnoxious when she thought other people were being stupid. Ginny smirked as Andy flinched. "Come on, McGrath, ickle Ginnykins is even saying it now. Time to grow up, mate."

"Yes, ma'am," he replied sarcastically, raising his hand to his forehead in mock salute. Kerney flicked him in the leg. He smiled.

At that point their heads whirled around to face the door as two small bodies came hurtling into the compartment, slamming the door closed behind them. Stephen McGrath and Nadia Ryan entered and went immediately over to the bench where Nadine and Andy were sitting, squeezing themselves into seats next to each other's older siblings. Cheeks pink from exertion, Nadia looked delighted, while Stevie looked nervously at the door.

"What did you two do this time?" Andy asked his brother, who sat between Nadine and Colin on the bench behind him. Stevie looked at Nadine and then Ginny, before his eyes rested on Kerney's Prefect badge, at which point his eyes widened at the prospect of getting in trouble. Ginny snickered while Andy looked pleased with his brother's reaction. The elder McGrath brother's attention was suddenly brought down to the floor when Nadia looped her arm through his and leaned her head on his shoulder.

"We're being chased by Slytherins," she said matter-of-factly. Andy looked amused at her.

"Why are they chasing you, you little menace?" Nadine asked.

"We may have hexed them," she answered simply, looking at Kerney's badge. It was such a Fred answer, that Ginny could not help but laugh.

"You _may_ have?" Andy asked. "How would you _not_ know if you did?"

"Plausible deniability," the younger girl answered, an adoring look on her face. Ginny snorted. Andy failed to keep in his chuckle.

"Half-pint, how many times have I told you not to use words when you don't know what they mean?"

"I do know what it means. Daddy said it means you keep things vague so you can always deny them later. He says they do that at the Ministry all the time."

"Nadia!" scolded her older sister. Ginny and Andy laughed.

"What? That's what he said."

"Yeah, Nad, but Dad also works at the Ministry. I don't think he meant to get himself fired when he told you that. Keep your mouth shut." Nadia appealed to Andy for sympathy with a look that usually melted the hearts of the third-year boys. Unfortunately for her, Andy wasn't in third year.

They heard the pounding of footsteps trample past their compartment and accompanying shouts. It was presumably the Slytherins that Stevie and Nadia had been pranking. A hush went over the compartment as they heard muffled voices get progressively quieter as they proceeded down the hall. During the pause in conversation, Ginny appraised the two thirteen-year olds.

Stephen McGrath was a miniature version of his brother, only his hair was a slightly dirtier blonde and he wore glasses. And apparently all the awkward growth stages that had mercifully passed Andy by had been saved up for Stevie. Ginny had no doubt that he would be quite as good looking as his older brother in a couple years, but he would always be a little nerdier and a lot more uptight. Despite his bookish tendencies, he was not scrawny, but very capably built. And he was completely obsessed with Quidditch.

Nadia, on the other hand, was a livewire. Strikingly beautiful as all the Ryan sisters were, Nadia was the most outgoing of them, and would likely break more hearts than the other two combined. She was by no means a snob, despite the fact that she was utterly spoiled by her parents, and probably the most trusting of the three sisters. Although she had a quick temper, she was a genuinely kind girl.

She and Stevie made an interesting pair, especially in comparison to their fifth-year siblings, but Ginny didn't think she could find a more loyal one. Perhaps Ron and Harry, or the twins. Maybe James Potter and Sirius Black, though she didn't know enough about Harry's father to judge. Andy had not been exaggerating when he said that Nadia had Stevie wrapped around her finger, because she definitely did. But it was okay because there was no person in the world who Nadia adored more than Stephen.

The older students joked that they were going to get married some day, but if Ginny had to put money on which pair of McGrath/Ryan children was going to end up together, her Sickles would be on Andy and Nadine. They had a spark. Mind you, it usually manifested itself in the form of sharp antagonism and hitting, but the way they could wind each other up was really something. The younger ones loved each other, to be sure; but it was more like the twin bond that Fred and George shared than it was romantic.

Moving her gaze from her two friends to Andy's little brother, she caught him staring at her and he quickly looked away. She smiled knowingly. Conversation picked up again, and she heard a whisper from over her left shoulder.

"Better not let Ron find out," Kerney teased. "He'll scare Stevie to death and then the poor kid will never get up his nerve to try out for Beater." Ginny smiled and raised her eyebrows in surprise. She knew he was wild about the game, but she didn't know he played. The prospect of replacing Andrew or Jack excited her, even if it was a younger student. She shoved Andy to get his attention.

"Is it true my boyfriend is trying out for the House team?" she whispered, not wanting to embarrass Stevie. Andy grinned.

"You bet. He's been mental about it all summer. After watching Sloper and Kirke try to play for your brothers, he reckoned he couldn't do any worse."

"Yeah, I kinda wish he'd tried out last year." Andy laughed. Ginny turned to address his younger brother.

"Hey, Stevie," she called, loud enough to draw the attention of the other inhabitants of the compartment. When she had his attention, she smiled kindly. "I hear you're trying out for Beater this year." Merlin love him, he blushed.

"Um, yeah. I am." Her grin widened at his adorable shyness and she hoped he was encouraged by it. Of course, Andy was smirking at him, so the poor kid was probably terribly embarrassed.

"I didn't know you liked Beater. You don't want to turn out like my brothers, do you?" she joked. He relaxed slightly.

"Well, I won't be as good as them, but I like Beater more than the other positions." He was warming up to the conversation now, despite being the center of attention among all older kids. But the topic was Quidditch, so if there was anything he felt comfortable talking about, it was that. "Besides, Harry is the best Seeker ever, and even if he couldn't play, you would." Ginny brightened at the compliment. "I watched you all last year. You didn't miss the Snitch once. Even against Cho Chang, and she's two years older than you!"

The fifth years all laughed at the mention of Ginny's delicious victory over Cho. They, like her brothers, never let her forget that she 'used' to have a crush on Harry Potter, and they took great pleasure at talking up a great rivalry between the two girls. The fact that Cho hooked up with Michael Corner shortly after Ginny dumped him only added to their sport.

In reality, though Ginny thought Cho was pretty flaky and a bit thick for all her book smarts, she didn't especially dislike her or really think about her that much at all. Any animosity between them was purely the invention of her friends—or Marietta Edgecombe, who had always rubbed Ginny the wrong way. Not that Ginny thought the girl would give them up to Umbridge like she did, but she was pretty sure Marietta didn't like her going out with Michael, and she was always trying to incite jealousy in both Corner and Chang by insinuating things about Harry and Ginny.

_If only_, Ginny thought.

"That's very nice of you, Stevie. But I reckon I'd make a better Chaser than Seeker. That's what I want to play this year—Oh! I can't believe I forgot! You'll never believe it! Guess what my stupid brothers got me for my birthday!" No one said anything, but looked at her with rapt anticipation. "A new Cleansweep Retro! The Gwendolyn Morgan Special Edition!"

"Bloody hell!" Stevie shouted, and everyone laughed. Nadine elbowed him for his language and he gave her an apologetic look. The compartment was buzzing with comments on her broom. Even though there were those in the wizarding world who didn't play, most wizards and witches knew the basics of the game and followed the gossip on players, teams, and equipment.

"Is the joke shop doing _that_ well?" Colin asked.

"It's doing fantastically, but not so well that Fred and George could have bought it on their own. All six of those idiots went in on it together. It was brilliant."

"Even Percy?" Ginny smiled uncertainly.

"Even Percy. _Git_. I reckon he'll be home soon. I'm not sure how I feel about that, and Ron is still furious with him, of course, but it's put Mum back to rights, so. . ." She shrugged. "I'm happy to be back at school, though. I don't fancy being at home when he might say something stupid and I'd end up hexing his face off."

"Percy's the only one that didn't play Quidditch, isn't he?" Stevie observed, mind still on more important things. Ginny smiled.

"Yes, he is. Charlie was the best Seeker at Hogwarts for a long time until Harry. Bill was a Chaser, and you've seen Ron and the twins. We'd have enough for our own bloody team if Percy wasn't such a nerd."

"Do you like Chaser because your brother played?"

"Not really. I never really got to see Bill play that much. Not at Hogwarts, anyway. I just like scoring goals better than anything else. I like the teamwork, and I'm too small to play Beater. And if I didn't play Chaser or Seeker, my flying skills would be wasted—"

"Not to mention that broom!" Othello interjected. Everyone chuckled.

"True." She turned back to Stevie. "Why, did someone in your family play Beater?" Stevie beamed.

"Yes. Our aunt was the only girl Beater since 1920 until Jamie Bowen made the Hufflepuff team. She was brilliant. My dad told me."

"Wait," she turned to Andy, "the girl Beater twenty years ago was your aunt?"

"That's right, Tracy McGrath. Well, Tracy Merton, now. She's a year younger than my dad, but she was a Gryffindor like us."

"Your dad was in Ravenclaw, right?" Kerney asked. Andy and Stevie both nodded.

"Yeah, and so was our Uncle Will. Our mum was a Gryffindor, though" Stevie added. "Between her and Aunt Tracy, I guess that's where we got it." The room was quiet for a moment.

Andy and Stevie's mother had died when they were very young. Ginny had never met their dad, but figured he must be a good guy for the boys to have turned out so well. It probably helped that they were so tight with the Ryans. Family support and all of that. It was no wonder Nadine and Nadia were so protective of Stevie. And Naomi had always looked out for Andy when he was younger, despite his rocky relationship with her sister.

Both Andy and Nadine had told Ginny at some point what they remembered about Mrs. McGrath. Andy had said that he knew she was blonde and almost as tall as his dad. He also had the impression that she was a very serene person. Not one to get emotional quickly, as he couldn't remember her ever raising her voice. Comforting. Nadine had recalled that she'd spent almost as much time in the care of Andy's mum as her own; they were always at each other's houses playing or being minded by each other's parents.

"Well, with any luck, you'll have another Quidditch Cup winner in the family by June," Ginny said to break the silence. The boys smiled at her in appreciation. "If we get to the Quidditch final, you better invite your aunt to come watch. I'd like to meet her."

"Well, if I make the team, that is—" Stevie began.

"We will," Andy finished for him. He seemed confident of his younger brother's chances. _Excellent_. Andy was not one prone to exaggeration, nor was he in the habit of giving others false hope. If he thought Stephen could make the team, then Stephen must be good. _Well, that's one less idiot_, Ginny thought hopefully.

She liked the idea of Stevie and Harry spending time together. Stevie was like Harry in certain ways—nervous in big groups, often underestimating himself, naturally introverted—and she was hoping they would become friends. Harry didn't know many of the younger kids, and she thought maybe he would see some of himself in Andy's little brother. And they had that whole mother-dying thing in common.

The conversation shifted to the coming school year, O.W.L.'s, and outrageous speculation about the new DADA professor. As the train chugged toward Hogwarts, Ginny laughed with her friends, whispering now and then with Andy or Kerney, glancing at Stephen periodically, only to find him staring at her. She had always been shocked that he fancied her and not Nadia, who, even at thirteen, was already much prettier than she was.

And so went her fifth September 1st trip on the Hogwarts Express.

The carriage ride had been especially pleasant this year, as the sky was clear and the weather unseasonably warm. Someone—presumably Dumbledore—had charmed the carriages to be topless, so that they could see the sun setting as they rode from Hogsmeade up to the school. This also meant that they had an unobstructed view of the Thestrals; that is to say, Luna did. And Harry, too, she supposed. _Twice over, now_.

She felt a brief pang of sadness at thinking of Sirius, but calmed herself and pushed back the beginning of a swell of magic.

When the carriages stopped, she climbed out of the one she had been sharing with Luna, Kerney, Nadine, and Andy. Heading up to the main entrance of Hogwarts, Ginny jumped when she heard her name.

"Ginny!" Then, louder: "Oy, _Weasley_!" She turned and saw her brother turn at their last name as well. She smiled when she saw Roman Keselica, flanked by Sheldon Wilde, Lauren Swain, and Haven Tidmarsh—otherwise known as the fifth-year Ravenclaw Quidditch players—jogging to catch up with her.

"Hey, mates," she answered. The two groups of fifth years greeted each other and exchanged the usual post-holiday conversation.

"So what's this we hear about Gryffindor's newest Chaser?" Roman asked. "We were hoping maybe you'd be rubbish with a Quaffle or something. But a Retro? Girl, what are you playing at?"

"Yeah, a Firebolt wasn't enough?" Sheldon added. "Now we have to deal with the two fastest fliers in the school _and_ the best brooms all in one House?"

"I'm not one of the fastest fliers in the school, Roman," Ginny insisted, shaking her head. "That's Harry and Baron, maybe Katie."

"Ramsey and Bell are probably the best all around fliers after Potter, but you're the fastest. Maybe even faster than your ridiculous Seeker this year. I noticed he's finally grown a bit. It'll make him harder to shove off the Snitch, but you're so much lighter than him now, I reckon you're the fastest in the school. Blast you bloody Gryffindors with a back-up Seeker who would start for any other House!" Ginny felt awkward at the praise, and changed the subject.

"Have you seen Bowen anywhere?" she asked as they passed through the entrance corridor and toward the Great Hall. The Ravenclaws laughed.

"Jamie's going to have kittens," Haven replied with a grin.

"That'll be a wicked match-up, though," Sheldon added. "Bowen and Healy are easily the best Beaters in the school now that your brothers are gone. And what with you on your Retro and her on her Nimbus 3000? It'll be a bloody good time as long as Potter doesn't get the Snitch too soon."

As they entered the Great Hall, the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws said their goodbyes and separated toward their House tables. Ginny told Luna to find her after the feast, and then set off with Kerney, Andy, and Nadine to meet up with the rest of the Gryffindors, sitting near the middle on the side with the rest of the older students. She and Nadine waved at Stevie while Nadia was chatting away next to him with another third year. Glancing back up the table toward the entrance of the Hall, she spotted the sixth years getting settled and waved to Neville, before exchanging smiles with Harry.

As McGonagall brought in the new firsties, Ginny scanned the staff table, identifying each of the returning professors until—_oooh, a woman_. Their Defense teacher was a woman for the first time (Ginny didn't count Umbridge, who was much more a foul, bloated toad than a human). She wondered what horrors lay ahead for them this year. _For Harry, more like_. She turned back and saw that he, too, had spied the new teacher.

Returning her gaze to the front, Ginny took in the newest addition to the faculty, who was seated next to Professor Snape. There was delicate green piping on her robes, which were a dark grey instead of the severe black of the Potions Professor's. And they looked very well tailored. _Expensive_.

A Slytherin.

Was Dumbledore mad? Ginny knew that not all Slytherins were as nasty or shady as the Malfoys and the Blacks (Sirius excepted); the Ramseys and the Greengrass sisters were perfect examples.

But she'd never met an adult Slytherin that she trusted besides Snape, and even he'd been a Death Eater at some point. Plus, it wasn't like the headmaster had the best track record with selecting Defense professors. _Barking mad_.

Stopping every now and then to clap with her house as another "midget" (as Ron liked to call them) became a Gryffindor, Ginny studied the female professor and Professor Snape. He usually had a look of pure loathing on his face every year that he'd been denied the Defense job, but this year was different. Ginny thought Snape definitely knew the new teacher.

Oh, she was a Slytherin, alright. She had the same excellent posture as Snape, but on her it looked elegant—not tense like it did on the Potions Master. She was a good-looking woman and clearly had money, given her tailored robes and impeccably groomed countenance. With blonde hair, she looked like Ginny imagined Narcissa Malfoy might if she wasn't the central member of the two darkest families in Britain. The last first year was sorted into Hufflepuff, and Dumbledore rose to tell them to tuck in.

Ginny ate with a contentedness she had not felt since the day she had given Harry his Easter egg in the library. She spent the feast listening to her housemates talk, interjecting a statement or a wisecrack here and there. Every few minutes she would glance up to the staff table, finally looking up to see the woman and Snape actually talking. _Would wonders never cease?_

They both had neutral expressions on their faces, but not the forced kind that indicated an underlying dislike. She didn't know about the new teacher, but this was definitely a change for Snape. She didn't think she'd ever seen him act this civilly with anyone, let alone the individuals Dumbledore had chosen for his coveted job.

Wow. He knew her _and_ he respected her. She must be something else. _Maybe he fancied her when they were at Hogwarts_. She was a handsome woman, after all.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Dumbledore commencing his annual speech. She turned to glance at Harry and he didn't seem to be listening to the headmaster's spiel, either. But he wasn't looking at the new professor.

He looked as though he might be staring at the mashed potatoes in the middle of the table, but he was probably just staring into space. Ginny was confident he was thinking about one of two things, neither of which would be pleasant. _Sirius or Voldemort_.

"—and I hope you will join me in welcoming our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Gertrude Wrightman." The woman stood up gracefully as everyone clapped, and _holy! crap!_ Snape was clapping for her, too.

The world did not seem right. First Draco shows up at Grimmauld Place and doesn't act like a total git. Then Snape is actually treating someone—the new Defense teacher, no less—like a human being? What next? Was McGonagall going to let her hair down? Was Hagrid going to develop a fear of dangerous creatures? Would Hermione stop acting like a condescending shrew? As if the summer hadn't been strange enough, fifth year didn't look like it was going to be any less puzzling.

She turned to Andy next to her, and had to snort in amusement as she saw Herpo perched comfortably in his shirt pocket. He had his robes on like everyone else, but had left them open in the front so that Herpo could look around. This was one of the most hilarious things she'd ever seen. If she had been at all attracted to Andy, she would have kissed him. But, fortunately for their friendship, she wasn't, and she settled for mussing up his hair like he was a little boy.

"Awww," she teased quietly. "Ickle Andy loves his kitty." He glared at her and she had to shove her fist in her mouth to keep from bursting out laughing in the middle of Dumbledore's speech.

Instead, Herpo decided this was a good time to leap out of Andy's pocket and into Ginny's lap, at which point she shifted instinctively to catch him, but caught her knee in her robes and fell clear off the bench. And she yelped. Loudly. But she did catch Herpo.

Trying to scrape together what was left of her dignity, she was relieved when Andy offered a hand to help her up. Luckily (or unluckily, as they had caused the scene in the first place), she was wearing her robes over her uniform, so at least she wasn't flashing the whole student body as she got to her feet.

"And she caught it!" Duncan Moran yelled from the seventh year cluster at the end of the table, causing the Great Hall to erupt with laughter. He turned to Harry. "I don't know, Potter, she might not give up that Seeker spot so easily." The tables roared. With both Duncan and Harry smiling at her, Ginny dipped into a curtsey and then held Herpo up to the cheers of her fellow students.

Dumbledore looked like he was trying very hard not to smile. Snape looked around nastily, as usual. _Yes, Professor Snape, Merlin forbid there be laughter at a school_, Ginny thought snidely. McGonagall was very nearly failing to look stern. Hagrid was beaming, of course, and Professor Wrightman. . .she was definitely intriguing. Despite appearing to have Snape's approval, she did not seem to be an icy, heartless crone.

Ginny had always imagined that if Snape ever met a woman he could tolerate—or, horror of horrors, _respect_—she would be about as fun as barbed wire.

But no, instead of scowling, this terribly refined woman looked right at Ginny, eyebrows raised ever so slightly, a very thin smile just barely upturning the corners of her mouth. _Well, the surprises just keep on coming, don't they?_

Ginny gazed back at her, face still pink with the fading traces of embarrassment, eyes sparkling, an expression of amusement forming on her face. She nodded in greeting to her new instructor, and then turned back to her still-chuckling classmates, with Herpo cradled safely in her lap.


	6. Internal Battles

**CHAPTER 5**

**Internal Battles**

"Miss Weasley, stay after class."

Snape had turned back toward his desk before she could look up from her cauldron. Ginny smirked, but had to command herself not to turn around to her left to share a look with Andy, as was her usual practice after an run-in with the Potions Master. She knew her friends were becoming suspicious, since McGonagall had asked her to stay after double Transfiguration the afternoon before. At this rate, she was guessing that the new Defense professor would follow suit next period in double Defense.

Luckily, Andy wasn't sitting right next to her like he did in every other class. In Potions, she had partnered with Devon Pearce—_gasp_, a Slytherin! _What would Ron say?_—ever since the beginning of third year. It had started out as a mutually beneficial arrangement, and had surprisingly turned into an unspoken . . . dare she say _friendship?_

By the first day of third-year Potions, Ginny had already found that she was no longer afraid of Snape, and had determined over the summer that she was going to do everything in her power to give him as good as she got. Coincidentally, that morning, Devon had been smarting from a heated fight with her then-best friend, one Olivia Flint who, besides being the Draco Malfoy of their year and Marcus Flint's younger sister, was Ginny's arch nemesis at Hogwarts.

In a turn of utmost defiance that would, unbeknownst to them, strangely bond the two girls together for years to come, Devon had forsaken her usual seat at the double with Olivia and took the seat next to Ginny. Inordinately pleased at the opportunity to hack off both Professor Snape _and_ Olivia at the same time—two birds, and all that—Ginny played along like a champ. But then, something happened.

The first week passed, and the next, and still they sat next to each other.

When they had come back from the Christmas holiday that year, Ginny had been unsure as to whether they would continue their partnership, but when she dared to sit next to Devon yet again, and Devon didn't move away, she smiled to herself and they had carried on ever since.

What was more, her talent and meticulous work rubbed off on Devon, bringing her to third in the class in Potions (behind Ginny and another Slytherin Ginny found not to be terribly objectionable, Constantine Cardenas). The two of them became an institution. When exam time came around, their classmates had flocked to study with them and it eventually morphed into somewhat of a tradition. Once word of it had spread to the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, their now biannual review sessions (before Christmas and before finals in the spring) attracted a faithful following of 31 of the 33 students in their year.

Only Olivia and her new best friend (since Devon's third-year defection) Maxine Leyton did not deign to show their faces.

And while Ginny's skills and humor had improved Devon's academic position, Devon had given Ginny something in return: on the rare occasion Ginny edged too close to losing her composure in front of Snape—when his remarks became especially personal, leaving the familiar territory of her hair, her family's poverty, and her personality, and jumping head-long into quiet references to her first year—Devon would be there with a clearing of her throat or a faked cough, or she would drop her wand, effectively distracting Ginny from being caught up in the memories and reminding her of where she was, that she had an ally sitting right there next to her.

Ginny wasn't sure how much Devon knew about what had actually occurred with Tom Riddle's diary, but she had gotten the impression that most of the older Slytherin students had a pretty good idea. They were all purebloods, as far as she knew, and all the pureblood families were related, the Slytherins more so than the others. Thus, most of them also had ties, intimate or somewhat removed, to the Death Eaters.

The Pearces, much like the Ramseys, had never been involved with the Dark Arts, at least back to the days of Grindelwald. But Ginny was well aware that Devon's aunt by marriage had been a Black, a cousin of Sirius'. She had seen their names on the Black family tapestry.

Not that Ginny was suspicious of Devon—or the Ramsey twins, the Greengrass sisters, fifth-year Prefect Quentin Crowe, or the Quidditch-playing Skillman brothers, Adam and Grady—but she was deeply curious. Much like her curiosity where Snape was concerned, she wanted to know what it was about them in particular that they had broader minds, clearer eyes, straighter spines, or different principles than their more hateful, prejudiced housemates.

What it was that led seventh years Baron Ramsey and Adam Skillman, and fifth year Grady Skillman, to show their respect for her Quidditch abilities. Why Gretchen Ramsey flaunted her friendship with Katie Bell. What led Devon to sit next to her in Potions every day after that first morning in third year. Why Quentin Crowe had voiced his disapproval that she had not been made a Prefect.

What was it that would keep all of them from becoming Death Eaters?

What had caused Snape to renounce his conviction as one?

She was drawn out of such intense thoughts as she felt Devon trying to glare at her from the corner of her eye. Ginny shook herself out of her reverie and dove into the first Potions lesson of the year. She couldn't very well muck up the first assignment of O.W.L. year, now could she? Heavens, no. She had a reputation to uphold.

"I'll be along in a second, yeah?" Ginny said as her friends left her behind in the Potions classroom. She took a deep breath and turned to walk up to Snape's desk at the front of the room. Even as she stood next to him, he did not look up from his desk. Ginny rolled her eyes at his posturing.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" He finished the sentence he was writing and looked up.

"Have a seat, Miss Weasley." It took all of her self-control to keep herself from shaking her head. Having gotten over her fear of him made his efforts at terrorizing his students almost comical at times. (Of course, there were still times when he could rattle her; the difference between Ginny at twelve and Ginny at fifteen was that she didn't show it). She sat, and waited for him to continue. He did, but not until he forced her to withstand his hateful scrutiny. She was proud of herself for every second that she was able to calmly return his stare.

"I have been informed of your intention to take your Potions exam at Christmas," he began, finally. Ginny didn't dare answer, outside of the slightest nod. Her close observation over the years had taught her that the less students spoke, the less abrasive he tended to be. "You must know that I haven't the slightest intention of helping you or giving you special treatment because of this."

"Yes, sir." That's the way. Keep it short and submissive.

"You will have to make up the extra material completely on your own time and at your own expense. I cannot spare ingredients or lab space for your extracurricular work." _Yeah, because you've got your own "extracurricular work," right, Professor?_

"I understand, sir."

"And on the chance that hell freezes over and you actually score the requisite grade for the N.E.W.T. Potions class, you will be responsible for all the material covered earlier in the year. You will be given no allowances there, either."

"I understand, sir."

Here he paused and his scrutiny of her intensified. He had almost a trace of concern at her calm, repetitive responses. He must think her to be a puzzle after dealing with all her brothers. She was neither as loud nor as vulgar as Ron and the twins, but she wasn't obsessed with pleasing him like Percy or Bill, either. It appeared that he honestly didn't know what to make of her. She decided to ask some questions of her own—might as well catch him while he's off balance.

"Can Professor Wrightman be trusted?" she asked, coolly and bluntly. He started ever so slightly, letting her know that her question had taken him as much by surprise as was probably possible. Of course, any trace of that almost-surprise disappeared in an instant.

"I find it strange and more than a little arrogant that you would ask me this question. Would it not be better to ask the headmaster for this information?" He was back to his casual snarky-ness, which, happily, was where Ginny felt most comfortable with him. It meant that he was most likely going to be sporting about his insults rather than vindictive and mean-spirited. It certainly helped that she'd peaked his interest with her question.

"With all due respect, sir, I have found the headmaster to be an unreliable judge of Defense Professors in the past. It would be much more prudent to find out your opinion on the matter."

"And why would you take my view over that of the headmaster, who dotes on your House and gives you whatever you desire?"

"Because you don't trust anyone. And you are an expert with regard to certain . . . matters of concern."

"Matters of concern?" A lesser man would not have been able to ask that question without betraying his own curiosity. _Bravo, Professor_.

"Whether she poses a threat to Harry. What it is that she's hiding from everyone." He smoothly ignored the first concern.

"What makes you so sure that she's hiding something?" Okay, now he was just plain patronizing her.

"Everyone has something to hide, Professor. You, of all people, know that."

"Me, of all people?" Now she openly let her exasperation show.

"I may have been stupid and trusting when I was eleven, sir, but I hope that, unlike some of my brothers, I have learned from my mistakes."

"How splendid for you." Ginny almost smiled at his response.

"Shall I humor you with my reasons?" She checked behind her to make sure no other students had come in through the open door. When she spoke again, she lowered her voice and leaned in a little. "You know that I know what your primary task is for the Order. From your comments in class I have no doubt that you're aware of the details of my first year. You were a Slytherin, just like Professor Wrightman.

"But more than all of this, you do not have the same deep loathing for her that you've had for every other Defense instructor to pass through this school while I've been a student. Your conversations and interactions with her lack the obvious hatred and resentment you reserve for everyone else, and what's more, your civility toward her is not forced. Formal, perhaps, but not against your will. You respect her, and you think highly of her. What I need to know is whether she poses a danger to me or Harry, and what skeleton she's got in her closet."

"Your concern for your fellow Gryffindor is touching. Or were you hoping that playing the informant would win you his affections?" Ginny didn't even blink at the dig. For some reason it was much easier to be teased about Harry by Snape than by her friends.

"Hardly. My own self-interest just happens to coincide with his in certain areas."

"Does it?"

"If I were to give you information, would it be at all vulnerable to being discovered by Tom Riddle?"

"Excuse me?" The blunt questions seemed to be working very well for her. He was obviously too used to students being afraid of him.

"I have given the headmaster permission to pass on sensitive information to you if the need arises. However, I find that I may need your advice, and I'm willing to tell you now, unless there is any way Tom Riddle could acquire it through you. My life—and others—may depend on it."

He kept up his stone-faced expression and Ginny had to admit that he was a bloody brilliant spy. She doubted that he already knew about her wandless powers (Professor McGonagall had given no indication that she had been informed) and she had very much come to suspect that he was the type of man who would bristle at being kept out of the loop. It was kind of ironic, but he and Sirius had been very similar that way.

"I can assure you that anything _you_ might believe to be important is in no danger of being revealed by _me_." Just for that last jab of condescension, Ginny decided to show off a bit. A wave of her right hand and a mumbled "_Colloportus!_" seemed to do the trick. As the door to the classroom slammed shut and locked, she turned back to him.

"Anything?" she snarked back at him. Still, she was impressed. The only traces of his surprise were in his slightly open mouth and the slight widening of his eyes. He abruptly cast a silencing ward around the classroom, closed off the fireplace, and for the first time in their conversation, closed his papers and gave her his undivided attention. "Are we secure here?"

"Yes. I have warded the classroom so that there are certain places even the headmaster cannot penetrate. How extensive are your wandless powers." Ginny marveled at how he could make a question sound like a statement—just another small way in which he could avoid putting himself at someone else's mercy and maintain control of the conversation.

"I can conjure a Patronus and I can Apparate without a wand."

"Be serious, Miss Weasley."

"Serious as a heart attack, Professor."

"Then show me." Mother _fucker_. There was no way in hell she was going to let Snape see that her Patronus was Harry. No-_effing_-way. She knew what her weaknesses were, and she had no illusions about any temporary détente she and Snape might share for the next few minutes. As soon as she left, he would use that knowledge ruthlessly against her.

"I can't Apparate on Hogwarts' grounds." It was only a matter of time until he found the location of this particular weakness, but she wouldn't permit him to find out the exact nature of it unless it was over her cold, dead body.

"Conjure a Patronus, then."

"I'd rather not."

"And why is that." Again, it was a statement, not a question.

"Self-interest and all that. You're a Slytherin, you should understand." He narrowed his eyes at her, perhaps wondering how much of himself Tom Riddle had actually left behind.

"You have your own share of things to hide, then."

"Yes, sir. And I reckon you have enough for the both of us."

"Assuming, only for the sake of argument, that you can do these things wandlessly. What does this have to do with me." Yet another question-that-wasn't.

"I want to learn Occlumency."

"You do, do you."

"Again with the self-preservation. I have certain . . . shall I say, advantages over your esteemed master. Leaving my mind vulnerable to him or his servants would compromise that advantage. You were supposedly instructing Harry in the subject last year." A shade passed briefly over Snape's countenance, but it was gone so fast, Ginny thought she may have imagined it. "As you cannot possibly deny, I am much more receptive to your instructional methods than he is."

"Don't sound so proud of yourself, Miss Weasley," Snape replied, rising from his seat and turning away from her toward his bookshelves, sliding smoothly back into his bitter, mean-spirited posture. "That is certainly no difficult feat. I hardly think you would prove to be a better student at this particular subject."

"Except that my connection with Tom Riddle has equipped me with much more tangible benefits than Harry's. I have Tom Riddle's talent for mind exploration without the obstacle of his consuming hatred. I am very likely predisposed for it given the way my contact with him has enhanced my mental faculties. Think about it, Professor. It will be like getting a do-over with Tom Riddle, but without the bitterness and self-loathing; you could succeed where the headmaster and your predecessors failed. And something else I doubt you've ever had: A willing student."

As Snape was still turned toward the shelves and showing no sign or responding, Ginny glanced at the clock on the wall. She had barely enough time to exchange her Potions things for her Defense materials and race to class on time. She rose from her seat and addressed his back.

"If there's nothing else, sir, I ought to get to Defense class before it gets any later." She turned to leave, barely slowing down to grab her bag at her seat on her way out. Her quiet command of "Alohomora!" at the door was followed closely by parting words from the Potions Master.

"Miss Weasley," he commanded, causing her to turn halfway back around.

"Yes, Professor?"

"I can assure you that, whatever she may be hiding, Gertrude Wrightman poses absolutely no threat to Mr. Potter, intentional or otherwise."

"Thank you, sir," she said, trying desperately hard not to smile in satisfaction. She walked out and shut the door behind her.

Ginny slid into her seat next to Andy in the Defense classroom. Kerney and Nadine sat at the double next to them, an arrangement carefully chiseled and codified after the first three years of Hogwarts proved that under no circumstances could Nadine and Andy work together. Or, at least, work together without something dreadful happening to one of them. They had only been back to school for two days and already Ginny was struggling to keep a straight face around the two of them.

On the other hand, Kerney was past all stages of amusement, and had begun to just hex them whenever they started in on each other. Nadine had already been to see Madam Pomfrey on account of the disgusting mole Kerney had installed on her face the day before after Nadine had leaned over her to shout something not very lady-like at Andy during Herbology.

Kerney Scott was not the type to create a spectacle. Where Ginny was more powerful and direct (two words: Bat-Bogey), the Kernel was much more subtle. Ginny was glad to be on good terms with her, because if you got in the doghouse with the Kernel, it might be days before you realized, yes, that was indeed a tail you were growing, and bloody hell, you need to see Madam Pomfrey right now.

Luckily, Ginny had never been on the receiving end of _that_ particular punishment. She knew not to get on Kerney's nerves; in fact, she wasn't altogether sure how everyone else managed to get caught in her friend's wrath. Kerney was not what one would call a high-strung or particularly needy friend—which was probably why Ginny had made an exception to her unspoken rule against being close mates with girls.

Ginny marveled at how the best looking and most easy-going bloke below sixth year could suddenly become so tense and self-conscious, but every time Andy blushed in front of Nadine (usually when another girl, whether older, younger, or fifth year, would throw herself at him . . . which was often) Ginny had to fight desperately to keep from laughing, even more so because it was quite obvious that Nadine didn't have a clue as to the reactions her jealous scowls (her mere presence, really) were having on him.

Ginny's thoughts were interrupted as the most graceful woman she had ever seen emerged from the office in the rear of the classroom and stood in front of the class.

_If Weasleys were Slytherins, would we get metal rods implanted in our spines, too?_ Ginny wondered. Professor Wrightman had better posture than anyone she had ever laid eyes on. But the real kicker was, it didn't look forced, either by tension, as Snape's always did, or by virtue of having to train the body. She remembered a brief stage when she was very young, where her mother had attempted to force good posture upon Ron and the twins. One could imagine how that turned out.

As Professor Wrightman introduced herself and began to call the roll, Ginny noticed that her teacher would look up and catch the eye of each student after she called their names. Ginny wasn't sure if she was imagining things, but thought she noticed the woman pause a little longer when her eyes landed on Andy. A few names later, her own was called.

"Ginevra Weasley," Professor Wrightman said in a clear, articulate voice.

"Here," Ginny responded promptly, trying match her teacher's tone as best she could. She raised her hand slightly as the teacher grazed her eyes about the room to match a face with the name. "But everyone calls me Ginny," she added once she had been spotted.

And if she thought Professor Wrightman may have paused slightly on Andy, she was sure the woman was doing it now. Ginny calmly continued to return the gaze of her teacher, determined not to break eye contact or in any other way show that she was rattled.

There was an almost imperceptible squint to her eyes, as if Professor Wrightman couldn't quite make her out—but it was gone as fast as it had appeared, and the regal woman smoothly moved into teaching mode to begin their first real Defense lesson in more than a year.

"Miss Weasley, would you stay behind a moment?" Professor Wrightman asked, as the class packed up their things to leave for lunch. Ginny looked up and nodded in response, turning back to her friends to find Andy and Kerney with annoyed looks on their faces.

"Dunno," Ginny said, shrugging, though she had more than just a hunch as to the subject of Professor Wrightman's request. Kerney's expression dipped into one of disappointment—and Ginny suspected her friend wasn't disappointed in not being told the reason for Ginny's sudden popularity with their teachers so much as she was disappointed in Ginny for such a patronizing and deceitful answer. Andy just sighed, as if he knew quite well that she wasn't telling them everything, but was resigned to waiting her out.

Ginny stifled a cringe. Outside of her brothers and Harry, Kerney and Andy were among the best people she knew, and she really hated that she'd been keeping things from them.

"I'll meet you at lunch, yeah?" she offered, with as much apology as she could inject into her tone.

They agreed and Nadine did not seem to share the knowing looks of the other two. After the three Gryffindors departed, Ginny left her half-packed school things and made her way into the back office where Professor Wrightman had gone.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Ginny said by way of announcing her presence. Her teacher looked up from a letter she had been reading and motioned for Ginny to sit down in the visitor's chair. She did, feeling the strange urge to straighten her back and cross her legs in the manner of her teacher.

"The headmaster tells me that you are taking your Defense O.W.L. early," she began. "Is that so?" _Cuts right to the chase, doesn't she?_

"Yes, ma'am," Ginny replied dutifully. Professor Wrightman nodded, though if her airtight demeanor had been inclined to give anything away, Ginny thought she might have been skeptical. Her professor resumed the scrutiny she had initiated in calling the roll.

"Forgive me, Miss Weasley, it's just that I don't recall anyone ever having done such a thing before." Ginny nodded in agreement, not having the faintest idea how to respond to such a comment. Her teacher continued. "May I ask if you are taking any others at that time?

"Potions and Transfiguration," Ginny supplied. At last Ginny received a reaction: eyebrows raised in surprise.

"Do you mind if I ask why you've arranged to do this? I know that your marks in Defense have been exemplary; in fact, given all your grades, I was surprised to see that you were not named a Prefect for your House. But why take them early?"

Ginny got the distinct impression that the woman across from her was not very comfortable with nonconformity, or, at the very least, she believed quite strongly in following custom and tradition.

"You may be aware of certain experiences in my life that lead me to expect future run-ins with Death Eaters, perhaps even Voldemort. I have certainly had more than my fair share already." Ginny paused to silently gauge her teacher's reaction, by which she was very impressed. Professor Wrightman had not flinched at all when she said Voldemort's name. Ginny continued:

"And frankly, I've already learned most of the fifth-year material." The professor took on a look of recognition.

"The D.A.?" Ginny smiled proudly.

"Mostly, yes. The rest I finished over the summer."

"Over the summer?"

"Well, I finished nearly all the theory from the fifth year text, but I've never had any trouble with the practical part of Defense . . . except for my Patronus, but I finally managed that this summer." Though Professor Wrightman showed nothing, Ginny got the distinct impression that she had piqued her teacher's interest with that last statement.

"Pardon me, but how were you able to practice magic outside of Hogwarts?"

"Oh, my friend brought me to Hogwarts to practice on my birthday." When her teacher pursed her lips ever so slightly, perhaps in disapproval (it was hard to tell with such a master of self-containment), Ginny explained further. "Professor Dumbledore knew all about it. He invited me, actually."

That wasn't a lie exactly, since Dumbledore _had_ invited her. What did it matter if the invitation was for the purpose of receiving her letter from Sirius?

"So you and your friend practiced conjuring a Patronus."

"Yes. Well, I practiced. I suspect he's been able to do one for a long time."

"But you can now conjure one?"

"Yes."

"A corporeal Patronus."

"Yes." Ginny knew the inevitable, horrifying question was coming.

"What form does it take?" Ginny's cheeks burned. It was much more difficult to contain her reaction to embarrassing, Harry-related subjects in front of people who were not Professor Snape. At least Professor Wrightman seemed to be asking out of honest curiosity rather than doubt in her ability. But that didn't make her feel any less ridiculous about the form it took, or about having to dodge a perfectly reasonable question.

"Actually, I'd rather not say, if you don't mind. It's dreadfully embarrassing. I almost died of humiliation when I saw it, and I made Remus swear he wouldn't tell a soul." She felt like such an idiot to let this get to her, especially on the heels of such an admirable performance with Professor Snape. But she could not help thinking that it would be disastrous for more than just her pride if anyone found out.

Fortunately, this woman did not know about her history (if it could really be called that) with Harry, and would therefore not be the slightest bit suspicious about the true nature of her suppressed mortification. As Ginny calmed herself down, she noticed that her teacher was staring off in space a little. This was very unlike the behavior she had come to expect from her two Slytherin professors. When she noticed Ginny studying her, Professor Wrightman picked up her end of the conversation.

"Remus?" Ginny supposed it wasn't a very common name. "Is he one of your housemates?" Ginny smiled, not hiding any of her affection for the werewolf.

"Actually, I suppose he is, in a manner of speaking." He _had_ been a Gryffindor, after all.

"In a manner of speaking?"

"Well, he was a Gryffindor when he was at Hogwarts. That's all I meant."

"But he's not anymore?"

"No. In fact, he taught Defense here my second year. He was the best one we've ever had. No offense, of course." But she might as well have not apologized, because for the first time Gertrude Wrightman seemed to be shaken by something. She looked quite stuck on the first thing Ginny had said.

"Are we talking about Remus Lupin?" Professor Wrightman asked, as close to surprised as Ginny thought possible. Which, compared to most people, wasn't very much. Ginny smiled again.

"Yes, Remus Lupin."

"And it doesn't bother you that he's a werewolf?" she asked. Ginny's temper flared in defense of her friend.

"No. Does it bother you?" she practically snapped.

And there it was again, emotional-Ginny rearing her ugly head, and getting regular-Ginny into trouble again. But she always got defensive on Remus' behalf. And now the same went for Sirius, as Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle had learned on the train. She calmed down a bit and didn't take time to be surprised at her teacher's reaction, which was less one of anger than it was curiosity.

"I'm sorry, professor. I didn't mean to snap at you. But he might be the only truly good man I know besides my father and my brothers. And if he hadn't been forced to resign by other people's ignorance and prejudice, we would have had him as a Defense teacher the last two years instead of an escaped Death Eater and a fascist ministry administrator who ruined our lives. If he'd been here last year instead of that horrible woman, then—" _we could have gone to him and we would have known that Sirius was safe. And Sirius might still be alive_.

Deep breath. Luckily she had cut herself off before saying anything she shouldn't. Seeing that Ginny was becoming distressed, Professor Wrightman cut in.

"I apologize. I had no intention of insulting either you, or your friend." Ginny nodded and sat back in her seat, thinking briefly that good posture could sod off. She was starting to believe that Professor Wrightman knew Remus. It would make sense if she really did know Snape from school.

"It's okay," Ginny offered. "I jumped to conclusions. I don't usually do that, but when people bring up the werewolf thing, it's usually the right conclusion to jump to."

"You are very protective of him."

"Well, yes, we all are." Ginny decided to try something. "Me, Harry, Hermione, and my brother, I mean. But Harry and I, especially." Ginny thought she was getting rather good at reading the new teacher's reactions, despite the older woman's impeccable ability to contain them. It probably helped to have had all that practice over the years with Professor Snape.

But in that first penetrating gaze during the roll call at the beginning of class, Ginny, who had already been blown away by how regally and gracefully this woman carried herself, had discerned that the one crack in her meticulously calm demeanor was her eyes. The shock of hearing Remus' name, and the affection with which Ginny spoke of him; the strong discomfort at Ginny's presumption in skipping ahead in three classes; and now sadness, were all absent from the professor's expression and body language, save the slight flashes of reaction in her eyes.

"Harry Potter." It was hard to tell whether the quiet acknowledgement was a question or a statement.

"Yes. Harry and my brother Ron are best mates. And Harry saved my life first year. You must have heard about the Chamber of Secrets . . . ." Ginny trailed off, not really in the mood to dwell further on that subject.

"Yes," her teacher confirmed, with no small amount of disgust in her voice. But it was quite clear that her disgust and disappointment were (thankfully) not aimed at Ginny. "I heard about the events concerning the Chamber of Secrets. I can't imagine the terror you two must have gone through." _True enough, you can't_, Ginny thought. "And at such a young age."

"Well, everything turned out well enough, I suppose," Ginny said, trying to steer the conversation away from that subject, and hopefully toward a conclusion. "Don't worry, Professor. I'm sure sometime soon I'll say or do something completely horrible and you won't feel the least bit sorry for me." She smiled in a way that she hoped conveyed her goodwill, and the professor's countenance eased.

But her posture remained impeccable. Ginny's resumed study of her teacher was interrupted by her stomach growling.

"If there's nothing else, Professor, I'd like to get some lunch before the Great Hall closes for the afternoon."

Not at all pleased with where that conversation had gone, Ginny resolved to work much harder at discretion in Professor Wrightman's presence. She made her way to the Great Hall, pausing in the doorway.

Everyone else was well into their lunch by now, and Ginny was caught between not wanting to eat lunch alone in the kitchens and wanting to confide in Andy and Kerney. She stood in the doorway for almost ten minutes before the Kernel happened to turn to the side just enough to catch Ginny's bright hair lurking there. At seeing this, Ginny put up her hand to catch her friend's attention.

Ginny held up three fingers and nodded toward the hallway, hoping that Kerney would catch on to her meaning. Sure enough, when there was a distraction from down the table (Duncan Moran's loud self-confidence could be very obliging, Ginny thought), Kerney leaned across the table and discreetly let Andy and Nadine know Ginny was there. Andy caught on and gently stopped Nadine from waving Ginny over to the table. Ginny smiled at this.

As her three friends appeared to be making their excuses for an early exit, her cover was almost blown when it looked like Colin had decided to join them in whatever they'd made up for the need to leave lunch halfway through. Ginny sighed audibly in relief when he was convinced to stay, and was turning to get herself out of sight, when Harry turned from smirking at whatever Duncan was saying to the older Gryffindor boys and spotted her.

Ginny held her breath again, praying that he would make no indication (particularly to Ron or Hermione) that he saw her, but there was no cause for anxiety. He made no show of noticing her, other than to furrow his eyebrows in question at her odd behavior (no doubt his concern had sprung from the apprehensive expression on her face). His attention was interrupted when Neville asked him a question, and Ginny took the opportunity to slide out of the doorway and out of sight.

A minute or so later, Andy, Nadine, and Kerney came around the corner. Nadine looked confused, to say the least; Andy looked expectant, and the Kernel appeared to be almost revoltingly pleased with herself.

"Kitchens?" Kerney asked.

"Kitchens," Ginny confirmed.

None of them spoke until they completed the hurried trip to the fruit portrait and Ginny tickled the pear.

"What are you doing?" Nadine asked, finally voicing the perplexity that had been all over her face since she'd come out of the Great Hall.

"Getting some lunch," Ginny answered as the painting sprang open and they all filed into the kitchens. She looked around and called out for Dobby.

"Miss Wheezy?" he answered as he trotted into view.

"Hi, Dobby," she said, smiling. Kerney looked amused at their exchange. Andy and Nadine had clearly never seen a house elf quite like Dobby. Then again, Dobby certainly was one of a kind.

"Oh, Dobby is so happy that Miss Wheezy has come with her friends to see him in the kitchens!"

"Of course I came to see you." She turned to her companions. "This is Andy, Kerney, and Nadine," she explained, pointing to each one in turn. "They are in fifth year just like me."

When the elves had scurried off to get them some lunch under Dobby's direction, the four Gryffindors found seats and Ginny jumped right into explanation. She had a feeling that if she delayed until after they ate, or thought about it too long, she might chicken out. And she really didn't want to do that. Kerney and Andy's faces had become more serious (though still expectant) and poor Nadine just looked relieved to finally be getting in the loop.

"What I'm about to tell you cannot, and I mean this in a life-or-death kind of way, it absolutely can_not_ leave this room. You can't tell a soul, and when I say that, you should understand that people's lives—including my own—could be at stake. So if you don't think you can handle that kind of pressure, you can go right now, no questions asked, no hard feelings."

Kerney and Andy both nodded soberly in response. Nadine's eyes went to Andy for some sign from him. She looked worried and unsure of what she was getting herself into. But Andy nodded at her in reassurance and then did something that Ginny (and Nadine, for that matter) had not been expecting. He grabbed her hand from her lap, gave it a squeeze, and did not let it go when he returned his attention to Ginny.

Nadine froze at the unexpected (but not unwelcome) contact, but recovered quickly and relaxed slightly, a blush running up into her cheeks. When Andy turned back to look at Ginny, she went on.

"Right then. You all know Voldemort's back." Andy and Nadine flinched at the name, but Ginny didn't notice. "What you don't know," _among other things_, Ginny thought to herself, "is that he's tried to come back before." Kerney didn't react to that, so as Ginny pushed on, she decided to keep her eyes trained on her calm and resolute friend. This was not going to be easy to begin with, and dealing with people's reactions was not something she looked forward to.

Hence Luna's extremely high value as a friend.

And so she told her friends about the Chamber of Secrets, and how she had been possessed by the diary; how she had trusted Tom and how she had been so horribly used. At the point when she got to Harry, how he had burst into the Chamber and talked with Tom, how she could see and hear everything but couldn't move or call out, she instinctively reached up to wipe her face with her arm, and discovered that tears were running heavily down her cheeks. She had no idea how long she had been crying.

The first sob shook her shoulders when the feeling of soul-shaking fear mixed with utter humiliation—feelings she had not felt with such intensity since that night in her first year—came pouring back over her.

As she went on through Harry's battle with the basilisk, the role Fawkes had played, and Harry saving her, she stuttered once and quickly recovered. The cause of the brief stutter was the markedly unexpected feeling of strong arms enveloping her from behind, but she did not look up to see whose they were.

She stared unseeing at Kerney as she finished the story, remembering how Harry had covered for her in Dumbledore's office when they had been confronted with her parents. When she was finished, she stopped to catch her breath, unconsciously leaning back into the embrace of her mystery comforter.

One glimpse of the scars winding around his forearms told her that she was being held by her brother. She was slightly surprised by this, but not so much by the fact that it was him, than the realization of how much bigger he was compared to the last time he had held her like this. Granted, it had been a very long time since then, and they had both grown considerably, but he still seemed bigger. It was almost like Bill holding her, except that Ron's arms were longer; longer and slimmer, but no less strong.

Upon realizing who it was, she closed her eyes and leaned fully into his chest. He smoothed her hair back out of her face, and replaced his hand back around her. When she had calmed down a little, when her breath had evened out, she stirred to sit up again, and offered Ron a small but appreciative smile. As she turned back to her friends to continue her explanations, her eyes found Harry watching her from the nook of the entrance to the kitchens.

If she had not been so distracted with her father's well-being at Christmas, Ginny would have recognized the intent gaze that Harry was giving her now. He had studied her the same way that night at Grimmauld Place as she lay curled up in a chair, staring into the fire and waiting for word on her father's condition. She thoughtfully noticed that she was not the least bit embarrassed by the spectacle he had just witnessed. She knew—though, admittedly, not first hand—that he was haunted by demons from his past quite as much as she was; indeed, probably more so.

Voldemort had dragged them both through unthinkable trials, and by the sober look on his face as he watched her, she knew that in witnessing her recollection he could see the familiar flashes of his own anguish. A squeeze from her brother reminded her of the four other people in the room, and she returned her full attention to her fellow fifth years.

Nadine looked shocked, now clutching at Andy's hand with not a little anxiety. Andy appeared to be in conflict between heartfelt sympathy and outrage on her behalf. Kerney, for once, did not have a knowing smirk on her face, and did not appear to be very sure of herself; instead she appeared shaken—but resolute. Ginny's "involvement" with the war against the dark lord and his followers was much deeper than any of them had anticipated.

As she continued illuminating her friends, her brother's embrace loosened so gradually that she only noticed its absence when he squeezed her shoulder to let her know he was leaving. Glancing toward the entrance, she saw that Harry was now standing rather than sitting scrunched up in the corner of the doorway, and she nodded thanks to Ron as he went to join his friend. The clicks of the painting opening and closing told her the fifth years were alone again.

At Harry and Ron's departure she dove into an explanation of the D.A., inviting them to join, ordering them to bring their siblings with them, and making sure they understood the gravity of commitment it required.

Finally, she enlightened them as to her wandless powers and her plan to take three of her O.W.L.'s early. Neither Andy nor Kerney seemed particularly surprised at these last two disclosures, while Nadine's eyes appeared to widen with each revelation. When Ginny was finished, the four of them sat in silence. After about ten minutes, Kerney spoke up.

"We should get to Transfiguration. Don't want to piss of McGonagall in the first week, do we?"

This suggestion got the foursome moving. They all gathered their school things and followed the Kernel out of the kitchens, absent-mindedl thanking the house elves as they went.

A significant portion of Gryffindor Tower was dead to the world, having just completed the last afternoon of Quidditch tryouts. All the students appeared to be fast asleep, but those who had been on brooms for nearly five hours were particularly spent. Harry had been carrying out his duties as captain with gusto, determined to make up for his absence the previous year.

The new roster had been posted at midnight, following several hours of discussion between Harry, Ron, and Katie Bell. She doubted that any of them had done any homework. Then again, it was Friday, so it wasn't like Harry and Ron would have done any in the first place.

Ginny had been named a Chaser, and with her new broom, had found that Roman was right: she was now faster in the air than both Katie and Harry. The third Chaser spot had been filled surprisingly by Betsy Moran, Duncan's third-year sister and, perhaps more significantly, daughter of the Moran from the Irish National Team. She badly needed experience, but it was quite obvious that she had inherited her mother's natural talent.

Much to Ginny's delight, Stephen McGrath had blown away the competition for the Beater spots, and would be partnering a reasonably improved Jack Sloper. Andrew Kirke had not tried out again.

More than two weeks had passed since Ginny had divulged several of her secrets to her friends in the kitchens, and since then she had barely seen Harry or her brother outside of tryouts, let alone talked to them about what had happened. After that day in the kitchens she had wondered why Hermione had not been with them, finding it hard to believe that she would have let them run off without an explanation. At voicing this out loud, Kerney had informed her that Hermione had been in McGonagall's office for most of lunch that day on Prefect business.

With the Quidditch season underway, O.W.L. studies beginning in earnest, and the commencement of D.A. meetings twice a week, Ginny hadn't a moment to spare for conversation other than at meals or walking in the halls. And she wasn't the only one. Harry had a full schedule as well, plus the added responsibilities of being Quidditch captain. Ron and Hermione's schedules were just as tight with their Prefect duties.

It had gotten to the point where Harry had resorted to using Hedwig to communicate with her, and it was only through Hedwig that they had managed to set up their Potions study sessions. Harry had been understandably surprised—and a little put out at first—when he'd arrived at their initial meeting to find that Ginny was not alone.

Knowing that she worked best in Potions when she had her partner, Ginny had succeeded in convincing Devon to join them in their lessons three nights a week. Harry had been predictably skeptical at first, but Ginny's assurances and Devon's discretion had brought him around eventually.

Harry actually seemed to take quite well to Devon's treatment of him—she didn't seem to care one bit that he was the Boy-Who-Lived, and her natural, casual behavior around him only sped up his acceptance of her. Ginny had told her Slytherin partner only that she was taking her Potions O.W.L. early, but she thought Devon had an idea about her other two as well.

At any rate, all of the Gryffindors were in bed, many of them sound asleep, and none more soundly than the supremely worn out Ginny and Harry. But this would not be the case for long, at least as far as Ginny was concerned.

_Ginny crept down the stairs of Grimmauld Place. It was not an unfamiliar action, despite the fact that the house was dark and no one else seemed to be awake. But Ginny knew better. She knew that if she continued down into the foyer and back into the small parlor tucked away in the rear of the house—a room that no one knew about save its owner, until Ginny had stumbled across it one afternoon in her forced solitude due to exclusion from Ron and Hermione's hushed conferences—she would find the person who had become her companion in that solitude._

_She had gone into the secret room one night when she'd had a nightmare and didn't want to be in the same room with the happily ignorant and slumbering Hermione any longer. _

_She stepped from the stairs to the hallway, traversing the rest of the route she could by now have walked in her sleep. Sure enough, she found Sirius lounging in a large, high-backed chair in the corner of the room. He had spread out what appeared to be a collection of photos and albums on the coffee table in front of him._

_But he wasn't looking at them. It looked as though he had been going through them earlier, but now he was leaning back in his seat and staring into space. He did not seem to notice as she entered the room and came over to the table._

_One glance at the pictures on the top of the pile startled her, as they appeared (at first impression) to be of Sirius and Harry. But a few additional seconds of examination quickly allowed to her to see that the young man in the first picture had crisp blue eyes (quite unlike Sirius' stormy gray ones) and a slightly shorter, somewhat stockier build than the man before her. _

_Sirius finally noticed her presence when she reached out to pick up the one of the boy who looked so much like Harry. He watched her closely as she examined it. The boy in the picture had on what were quite obviously Gryffindor Quidditch robes, only they were not the same style as any she had seen her brothers wear._

_It wasn't the absence of a lightning bolt scar that told her he must be James Potter, but a combination of smaller details that made the picture appear to her as though someone had tried to paint a portrait of Harry but had messed up on some of his features. It was like a not-quite-right Harry Potter. Rich, twinkling hazel eyes stared back at her instead of the bright, uneasy green ones she knew so well. _

_The boy's nose was narrower and his chin and cheek bones a bit sharper. And he was taller. Ginny wondered briefly if Harry's shoulders would come to be as broad and strong-looking as his father's. She could certainly appreciate what Lily must have found attractive about a boy like James, seeing as she was attracted to just that—a boy who looked like James._

_Ginny wondered who the two girls standing next to James Potter in the picture were. One was a good deal shorter than Harry's father, with light brown hair tied back in little pigtails and a laughing smile. The other girl looked taller and a little more reserved, and it was obvious that the first girl was better friends with James. Both were in the same Quidditch robes as Harry's dad. She turned to Sirius._

"_Who are the girls?" she asked him._

"_Tracy and Nancy," he replied softly. "Nancy was captain our sixth year."_

"_He really does look like his dad, doesn't he?" she asked, though it was hard to tell whether the question was rhetorical or not._

"_He certainly does," Sirius replied, knowing exactly who Ginny was talking about. Her eyes strayed back to the first picture._

"_Is that your brother?" She saw Sirius' eyes harden from sadness to bitterness, but his voice remained even._

"_Yes. Regulus, my little brother." Ginny took one of the pictures in each hand._

"_They look like someone set out to get pictures of you and Harry, but messed up in spots. Just not quite right."_

"_That's how Harry looks to me," he replied. "Like someone tried to give me another James, but couldn't remember exactly how to put him together. Instead of hazel eyes, I see green ones. Instead of mischievous and audacious, he's anxious and quiet. Instead of arrogant, he's almost completely unsure of himself. Even the one place where he _is_ sure of himself, he plays the wrong position. That's fitting, at least. James was the flashy one, scoring loads of goals as a Chaser and happy to be the center of entertainment for most of the game. _

"_But Harry—he's just like a Seeker, isn't he? Quiet the whole game, flying under the radar, until he comes through at the last second because he knows the outcome depends on him. Everyone knows that victory or defeat in Quidditch almost always depends on who catches the Snitch; they rarely hinge on anybody other than the Seeker. He's the lynchpin, the key to everything." Sirius trailed off a bit at the end, and the slightly faraway look on his face, the sadness (but not pity) that crept across it, gave Ginny the feeling that he wasn't talking about Quidditch anymore._

"_You were lucky," Ginny blurted out, realizing how terrible it sounded only after it was out. In her jealousy at Sirius' obvious affection for his friend, and even his brother, Ginny had not stopped to think._

"_Lucky?" Sirius repeated, nearly incredulous. "I'm a lot of things, Ginny, but I seriously doubt that anyone would include 'lucky' as one of them."_

"_Well, you had a best friend who loved you. And Harry loves you. That sounds like a pretty good deal to me." Sirius stared at her for a long time. _

_Uncomfortable under his scrutiny, she began to look through more of the photos on the small table. She opened a box that was labeled "R. Lupin" to find a group picture lying on the top. Decorations in the background hinted that the photo had been taken on Halloween, by the looks of it, only a few months after Harry was born._

_Harry's dad was showing him off proudly to the camera, as a lovely young woman with rich red hair—the elusive Lily, presumably—smiled from his side. Remus stood next to James and Sirius stood on the other side of Lily with his arm around her waist. Ginny noticed that Lily kept trying to shake Sirius off, not unkindly, but more as if it was a practiced joke. _

_At the far left, on the other side of Remus, stood a shorter, chubbier young man, who could only be the infamous Peter Pettigrew. She wondered for a moment if he'd already begun his betrayal of his friends when the picture was taken, but then her attention was distracted by the people standing to the right of Sirius._

_Immediately next to Sirius was another family of three, though the infant looked slightly younger than baby Harry. The parents were both tall and had blonde hair. The man was handsome and kind-looking, and in a very familiar way. She wondered where she possibly could have seen his face before. His dull blue eyes radiated contentedness. And his wife beamed alternately at him, the baby, and the camera. She would occasionally say something (though Ginny had no way of knowing what) and cause Lily and the father of the baby Ginny didn't know to chuckle. _

_Finally, at the right end of the picture were two boys who looked like they were either fresh out of Hogwarts, or in their last year. Ginny thought she wouldn't mind being asked to Hogsmeade by a bloke who looked like either of them. _

_But of all the people in the photo, the one that drew her attention was Lily, Harry's mum. She was a bit of a mystery. Everyone knew about James Potter, of whom Harry was the spitting image, the Head Boy, the Quidditch player, the Marauder, Sirius Black's best friend. But from what Sirius said, it sounded like Harry wasn't a thing like him outside of his looks. _

_Ginny wanted to know what Lily Potter had been like. Did Harry take after her instead? Was she as fierce and selective in her loyalty and affection as her son had come to be? Was she as unsure of herself as Harry was, despite the fact that everyone around her liked and respected her? She finally turned and met Sirius' gaze._

"_What was Harry's mum like?" she asked. Sirius smiled sadly. Ginny's heart clenched._

"_She was something else. Harry is like her, in some ways. She never believed that she was anything special, even though it was impossible for anyone else to deny that she was. She had a few very close friends that she trusted and protected with her life. She knew the difference between right and wrong, and stood up for what was right. She didn't ask to be a leader, but she always stepped up to the challenges that were thrown at her. _

"_In one way she was a lot like you, actually. Her sense of humor was magnificent. You have the same mix of sarcasm and spunk with a tiny hint of mischief that she had. Some of the things that come out of your mouth have me doing a double-take to make sure that I'm really talking with you and not her. But if I could say just one thing about her, it would be that that woman lit up every room she ever walked into. And she was my constant reminder that I didn't need this house," he paused, looking around the eternally dreary room, "or any of the things it represented."_

_Just then, the dream shifted, and Ginny found herself in the foyer of Grimmauld Place, still with Sirius, but joined by a real live version of Sirius' mum, as if the figure in the portrait had come to life. The horrible woman's voice was coaxing her in the same tones in which she had spoken to Ginny the night the painting had finally been destroyed. But it was encouraging instead disparaging her. Ginny could feel that she was trying to persuade herself to cast the Imperius curse on Sirius, who was sitting at the base of the stairs._

_Ginny's mind (or was it her heart? Her soul, maybe?) protested the idea vehemently, but Ginny felt a small rush of adrenalin just at the idea. Mrs. Black kept telling her how good it would feel; how it would feel better than flying, better than kissing a boy. Sirius said nothing, but looked at her from his seat on the stairs with pleading eyes, eyes begging her not to give in._

_But, just as she had eventually done with Tom Riddle, Ginny gave in. A twist of her wand, and a strong pronunciation of _"Imperio!"_ brought her in control of Sirius' brain and body, and as she cast the spell and began to force her will on him, she felt a rush of power like nothing she had ever known. _

_She felt strong and untouchable; like she could take on Dumbledore and win. She wondered why a spell that created such a wonderful feeling could possibly be classified as "unforgivable." Sirius began to fight the curse, leading Ginny to attempt a stronger cast, but right as she was flicking her wand and about to say the incantation, she happened to meet Sirius' eyes again, briefly out from under the spell, and the utter sadness and regret in them tore Ginny from her sleep._

Ginny gasped as she awoke suddenly, drenched with sweat and breathing hard. Once it evened out, she peeped out of her bed hangings and saw that it was well past two in the morning. She sighed. It was only a few weeks into the term and she really couldn't afford to lose anymore sleep than she already had under her hectic schedule.

But she just couldn't shake the feeling—the utter high she had felt in her dream when she'd let that Imperius curse fly. And she couldn't shake the eerie feeling of familiarity that had come with it. She could not ever recall feeling that way before—the rush of power, like a mix between flying at top speed on her broom and the moment right before she had destroyed the painting at Grimmauld Place.

Except that this feeling was much stronger.

So much stronger that it scared her. She wondered why it did, when the feeling itself was so fantastic, and when there were so many other things that were darker, scarier, and more painful that didn't frighten her. She was certain that she'd never felt that way after casting a spell before.

And yet . . . it felt awfully familiar.

Ginny sat up in bed, momentarily wishing that Herpo would come and jump into her lamp. She'd found recently that when things got too hectic or she felt out of sorts, Harry's spunky little kitten had become a source of comfort. Petting him as he snuggled in her lap had the marvelous effect of calming her down and allowing her to sort out her thoughts.

With this in mind, Ginny got up, grabbed one of Charlie's old jumpers, and headed down to the common room on the slight chance that Herpo would be there. With one last (jealous) look at Kerney and Nadine's sleeping forms, she crept quietly out of the room and down the stairs.

The fire was low, nearly burnt out. A casual flick of her hand and a mumbled "_incendio_" brought it quickly back to life. Putting on her brother's sweater, she curled up on the couch in her usual manner, tucking her bare legs up near her wool-covered chest.

As she stared into the fire, she began to feel a piercing coldness gradually expanding inside her. It was hardly noticeable at first, but as it grew in intensity, Ginny froze, held her breath, and quickly started trying to think of how she could possibly describe what she was feeling. As strange as the feelings in her dreams had been, the coldness that was escalating in her now felt almost as if it was an aftertaste of them. Like it was part two or a continuation of the earlier, much more pleasant sensations.

She briefly remembered the exhaustion she'd felt the morning after she destroyed the portrait of Mrs. Black, but this was completely different. Rather than drained or exhausted, she actually felt bolstered in magical strength, despite the discomfort of the cold.

Her musings were interrupted as a stab of sharp, ice-cold pain shot up through her abdomen, feeling as though it pierced her heart. The pain was completely debilitating.

Her body, usually so warm, soft, and full of life, was crumpled in the fetal position on the couch as she endured pain beyond imagining; pain so gut-wrenching that it choked her to the point where she couldn't even scream.

When it finally subsided, Ginny lay stunned on the couch, limp like a rag doll. She had never endured the Cruciatus curse, but she couldn't imagine that it was worse than what she had just experienced. It took more than twenty minutes for her breathing and her heartbeat to return to normal. Her heart still ached, but at least it no longer felt like it was on fire. Sitting up, she felt her face with her hand, and discovered tears running down her cheeks.

As she stood up, a wave of exhaustion overcame her, and she had to hang on to the arm of the couch to keep from falling. Closing her eyes, she concentrated on her broom and whispered "_Accio Retro_," holding her hand out in expectation. Unfortunately, she found the last bit extremely tiring, and she could barely keep her arm up to receive it. Moments later she could see her broom floating down the girls' staircase and she sighed in relief when it finally came to hover next to the couch.

It seemed like an impossible task to get seated on it, but she finally did after several unsuccessful attempts, though she was still slumped over and unbelievably weary. Once she was confident of her balance, she pulled up slightly on the handle and made her way over to the stairs, where she paused as she considered whether to wake her brother up to tell him what had happened.

But all her thoughts were jarred once more as a second wave of coldness overtook her and the same frozen pain pierced through her heart again, nearly causing her to fall off the broom.

It might have been comical to watch if she didn't honestly believe that she was going to die from the pain. The broom was still suspended in the air, and she was jerking as though she were having a seizure. The broom twitched this way and that as she clutched tightly onto the handle through her agony. All she could concentrate on was hanging on to it, though by the end she was doing so more for her own sanity than to keep from falling off.

When the pain finally relented, she started sobbing uncontrollably. She wanted to know what she had done to deserve this. She wanted to know what was happening to her. But most of all, she wanted to know what it meant.

Maybe Dumbledore had been wrong. Maybe the past few years had only been quiet for her so that Tom could lull her into a false sense of security. It wasn't like she'd been on her guard constantly like Harry had. But that was understandable, right? After what had happened to her in first year, she just wanted to be normal. To walk through the common room or the Great Hall without the paranoia that people were whispering about her.

Only when her family moved to Grimmauld Place the summer before fourth year had she really been involved again. And of course, the trip to the Department of Mysteries. But between her first and fourth years, she had been left out of all the troubles caused by Voldemort and the Death Eaters. Maybe there was a reason. Maybe she'd been left alone so that she'd be far enough detached from her memories to get complacent . . . only for Tom to strike again, but harder and deeper this time.

She knew that the headmaster was right; no one—certainly not Lucius Malfoy or Tom Riddle—had expected her to be able to fight the diary for the whole school year. Tom had become increasingly agitated the more she resisted. The more she had questioned him, the angrier he got.

Half of the terror during her possession had been waking up from a blackout covered in rooster's blood or not knowing how she had gotten into Moaning Myrtle's bathroom; but the other half had been caused by her fear of what Tom would do to her as he continued to get angrier and angrier.

What could he hope to gain by messing with her again? Was he going to possess her and make her do horrible things? He couldn't do his Chamber of Secrets act again since Harry had destroyed the basilisk. Was he just in it to torture her for his own amusement? Or was he trying to get at Harry? She wasn't sure how he could do anything to Harry through her, since she amounted to practically the least important of his friends. Why wouldn't he try to use Ron or Hermione? Surely they would be a better choice.

_Maybe because of my powers_, she thought grimly. As their recent D.A. meetings had demonstrated, Ginny and Hermione were the only two students who could rival Harry in Defense, and Ginny's athleticism gave her a decided advantage over Hermione.

Ginny sighed and squeezed her eyes closed as the next thought hit her.

_He's not trying to use me to get to Harry_, she thought with anguish. _He's going to make me kill him myself_.

She felt ill.

But that had to be it. She couldn't be bait for a trap; Harry certainly didn't care for her like he did Sirius. His reaction would never be the same gut instinct imperative to save her that it was for his godfather. Or Ron, or Hermione. Or, now that she thought about it, Remus either.

And while Voldemort may have been many things—arrogant, for one; psychotic, for another—he was not stupid. He would know that Ginny would be a poor bargaining chip, and an even worse lure, for the Boy-Who-Lived. After all, couldn't he read Harry's mind? Wasn't that how he'd lured him to the Department of Mysteries in the first place?

No, he must have found out about her powers somehow and was now trying to bend and exploit them to his own demented ends.

Her nausea intensified. She couldn't stop Tom from controlling her when she was eleven—was there any chance that she would be able to stop him now? After all, this wouldn't be the young, inexperienced Tom Riddle, this would be Voldemort, the most feared and perhaps the most powerful wizard of the age; certainly the most dangerous dark wizard.

This was the thing she feared most of all, perhaps the only thing she really feared: herself. Herself, helpless as she was controlled by the one person (was he really even a person anymore?) she hated, the one who had stolen part of her childhood. The one who haunted her at night and made it harder to face the day.

After she had finally begun to heal a little after the Chamber of Secrets, the fear of being possessed again had faded with time. But the thought had always lingered in the back of her mind that someday it would happen again; that since she'd been tarnished that one time, she'd be more vulnerable to him the next time.

_Bugger. Life just wasn't fair_. Forget fair, it was just plain horrible.

Knowing what she did now, how could she ever look Harry in the eye? How could she play Quidditch with him and study Potions with him, and endure D.A. meetings with him? She felt that by just living her life she would be undertaking the worst kind of betrayal. She recalled the commotion made by everyone the year before about the "weapon" that the Order was trying to protect from Voldemort.

Well, now it looked to her like Voldemort already had the weapon he needed. _Her_.

She didn't even want to think about what to do with this information. If she mentioned it to someone, Harry (and, in all likelihood, everyone else) would never trust her again. Forget "again"; who was she to say he ever trusted her in the first place? How well did he really know her? She knew him like the back of her hand, like she knew the Burrow with her eyes closed. But even if his first reaction was to trust her, she knew he would eventually come to the realization that he actually didn't know her very well at all. And that would be it.

They would never be good friends, let alone anything more . . . intimate than that. Not that she could blame him. As it was, she had half a mind to put in for a transfer to Beauxbatons, in the hope that the English Channel might be enough of a barrier to keep her from hurting the one person in the world that she wanted to protect the most.

But if she didn't tell anyone, then no one would be on their guard about Harry's vulnerability. And it wasn't like she had ever been able to stop Tom from forcing her to do things when he possessed her. _Sod it all_.

For a brief moment, she thought that perhaps she was overreacting; that maybe this was just her extremely powerful imagination running away with her at a moment of weakness, exhaustion, and fear. There wasn't really any part of this ghastly experience that indicated Voldemort was behind it, right?

But that wasn't exactly true. While the pain was unlike anything she'd felt before, the coldness of it _was_ familiar. It reminded her of the coldness that had filled her as Tom had funneled her own soul out and poured in his own. She shuddered at the memory, and shuddered again at the realization that the coldness of the pain was much, much more intense.

That clinched it. This had something to do with Tom. The coldness was the same, and with something as significant in her life as this, there was no mistaking it. She closed her eyes and calmed herself down until she was able to guide her broom back up the stairs without running into the railing. She didn't want to be in the common room if she had another round of pain—anyone could come downstairs and see her.

When she got back to her bed, she found Herpo sitting on her pillow, waiting for her. The rush of relief she felt at such a small thing made her start crying again, as she tumbled off her broom and onto her bed. Herpo climbed into her arms as she shoved her legs under the covers and when she was sufficiently tucked in, she glanced at the clock again. 4:30 in the morning. She stifled a groan. Herpo licked her chin affectionately and she sighed. In minutes they were fast asleep.

The next morning Ginny didn't wake up until after lunch time, and Herpo was no longer snuggled in the covers with her. Instead he was sitting up, right in front of her face, flopping his tail around and looking at her impatiently. She cracked a smile and tugged him back against her chest, enjoying one genuinely pleasant moment before the memories of the night before came crashing back to her.

She had to squeeze her eyes tightly shut to keep from crying again. Herpo made a valiant attempt to distract her by meowing and tugging at the collar of her sweater, but to no avail. She was quite unaware of anything around her, too caught up in the nightmare to notice anything else.

That she could have given in to the prodding of the visage she detested and thought she had destroyed began to eat away at her. _"Your soul is dark, Ginevra. I can sense it in you." _ Mrs. Black's words from the night she had done away with the painting came back to her. Ginny had adamantly denied the suggestion at the time without a second thought. What if the painting had been right? Ginny decided she didn't want to find out.

But the thought that (even in a dream) she could have turned her wand on Sirius—Sirius, who was the model against which all loyalty, sacrifice, and friendship ought to be measured, who had fought the hardest battles against darkness of anyone—made her want to die. How unworthy if his friendship and protection she was turning out to be.

Thoughts of the pain of losing Sirius, followed soon after by the notion of Harry having to withstand the Cruciatus curse sent a rush of love (and not a little sadness) through her, driving out some of the pain from the night before, just enough that she could get a hold of herself. She took a few deep breaths and sat up in bed. The worst part was not knowing how much worse it could get.

The following Monday, breakfast was interrupted by the arrival of the _Daily Prophet_, but did not resume as it usually did. Silence blanketed the Great Hall as the students read the headlines that proclaimed the untimely (or, politically speaking, timely) death of Cornelius Fudge.

Ginny looked up toward the sixth years and found her brother and Hermione, but saw no sign of Harry.

Amelia Bones had been elected Minister of Magic. At least Lucius Malfoy was still in prison, though it was unlikely that something as negligible as being locked in Azkaban would keep him from interfering with the election. The emergency aspect of the election was probably the only thing that kept a Death Eater puppet from stealing the show.

At least Amelia Bones was fair-minded and not intoxicated by power and money.

Ginny didn't see Harry again until Quidditch practice the next afternoon, but they didn't talk, and he seemed to be distracted. For her part, Ginny was hardly more alive than a zombie. She barely spoke to anyone, and played terribly at practice. Not that Harry noticed, because he was too concerned with his own distraction to pay attention to her, and Ron was too preoccupied with concern for Harry to notice either. Katie had been frustrated and helpless, and Stevie and Betsy had been worried. Jack didn't seem to notice that anything was wrong.

That night, Ginny had another dream, but this time she cast the Cruciatus curse at the end. The power she felt was incredible. So she did it again. It was even better the second time. And better still the third time.

Better, that is, until she woke up, realized what she had done, and quickly cast a silencing charm around her bed when she felt the coldness creeping over her again. The bouts of pain were even worse than after the last dream, and there were more of them. When Ginny woke up the next morning, she couldn't speak; her throat was raw from the silent screams that had ripped through her as she fought to stay conscious.

Days passed and Ginny was barely aware of what was going on around her. Everyone was busy these days, so very few people noticed that something might be wrong. O.W.L.'s, N.E.W.T.'s, Quidditch, Prefect duties, and the D.A. occupied everyone's attention so that if Ginny Weasley happened to miss a meal (or three), fall asleep in Herbology, or lose a duel in a D.A. meeting, no one thought anything of it, let alone picked up on a pattern of behavior.

And if she had any hope that her brother would show some concern, like that day in the kitchens during the first week of school, it was dashed as he became more and more preoccupied with Harry's return to his own dark moodiness. At their Potions study sessions, Harry and Ginny were both quiet except for the necessary exchanges involved in group revision. Neither wanted to think (or talk) about their own distress, and if Devon noticed that something was off, she didn't say anything.

The rare times she saw her brother and Hermione, it was from across the common room or down the lunch table; but even then, she could tell that Hermione was more jittery than usual, and the bags under Ron's eyes became more pronounced every day. They looked shaken. Ginny wondered what had happened for them to look that way.

For her part, Ginny was trying to avoid sleeping as much as possible. The first dream had involved the Imperius curse, and in the second she had cast the Cruciatus. It wasn't hard to guess what she might do in the next dream, and besides the horror of doing such a thing as aiming the killing curse at someone, she knew two things: that the high she got from performing the curse would far surpass the sensations of the first two Unforgivables, and that the after-effects would correspondingly be the worst yet.

Tests and essays came and went, and she performed all her school tasks mechanically and with little recollection. The small upside to her miserable condition was that the knowledge she had inherited from the young Tom Riddle responded automatically to questions, tests, and assignments, and prevented her from falling behind in her schoolwork.

But it also meant that her teachers did not notice the changes in her personality and behavior—well, all of them save one, but he was not ready to confront her yet. For all that she had become very good at not rising to his attempts to bait her, he could always tell in the past that what he said hit a nerve or made her think. Now it seemed as though she didn't even hear him; as though his words evaporated in the air before they reached her. But he said nothing.

As for her other teachers, if perhaps she chatted with her partners in class less than usual, who were they to complain that there was less noise among the students? It was, after all, O.W.L. year, and a girl like Ginny Weasley could achieve great things if she put in the time and dedication.

It wasn't until Luna stayed behind after a D.A. meeting one night that anyone seemed to notice something was wrong.

Ginny was trying to think of which of her early O.W.L. subjects she wanted to work on when everyone else went to bed when she tripped and fell on her way to the door of the Room of Requirement. Displaying the first significant bit of emotion that she had felt in several weeks, Ginny got up and scowled as she turned around to see who the culprit was. She was surprised to see Luna staring at her, but even more surprised to see a stern look on the blonde girl's face.

It was decidedly odd to see Luna Lovegood standing in front of her with her arms crossed angrily, her chin set sternly, and for once standing straight at her full height.

"Are you going to tell me what's wrong?" she asked. Ginny's shock and strength went out of her in a rush. She looked down at the floor, not wanting to face Luna's disappointed gaze.

"What are you talking about." It wasn't a question. Ginny knew she couldn't lie to Luna. She'd never been able to, and was therefore now just going through the motions.

"You're not sleeping, you're barely eating, and the audacious, brilliant girl I used to know has become a zombie. You're practically falling off your broom at Quidditch practice. Why aren't you sleeping?"

"Nightmares," Ginny replied, sitting down on one of the couches to relieve her tired body. Luna joined her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders. Ginny was grateful and used her friend's shoulder as a pillow.

"Is it him?" Ginny didn't need to ask who "he" was.

"I don't know for certain, but I think so."

"You know, Harry looks terrible, too." Ginny pondered this for a moment. She glanced over to the opposite corner of the room where Harry and Ron were sifting through Defense books. She couldn't see him very well, though looking at him reminded her that Harry had been tormented in his sleep by Voldemort, too. She wondered if it was time to go ask Professor Snape about Occlumency lessons again.

"I reckon he does," Ginny agreed, though she couldn't say she had first-hand knowledge. As she tried to remember how he looked at Quidditch practice lately, she found that she couldn't. She tried to picture him at their last Potions session, but couldn't come up with anything there, either.

"How bad is it." Ginny had always appreciated Luna's calm and patient demeanor. It made a world of difference in situations like this.

"Pretty bad," Ginny replied, trying not to dwell on what her dreams could mean.

"How bad is pretty bad," Luna returned.

"I reckon I could give Harry a run for his money in the horrific experiences category. I haven't ever been hit with a Cruciatus, but I can't believe it would be worse than some of the nonsense that I've been hit with recently." This was met with an affectionate squeeze from Luna.

"Bugger-fucking-hell."

Ginny couldn't help but chuckle at Luna's angry exclamation. She'd never heard Luna curse before and it was decidedly amusing to hear it now.

"Well I'm glad I've been able to make you laugh, at any rate," Luna replied with a hint of a smile in her voice. Ginny looked at Harry and tried to remember the last time she had seen or heard him laugh. She couldn't remember.

Just then, he turned around and caught her watching him. His face softened slightly, and Ginny remembered that she was curled up on the couch with Luna. She smirked a little a waved at Harry, who gave her a small smile and a wave in return. Ron looked up as if to see why he didn't have Harry's attention, and tugged his friend back to their task, whatever it was. Ginny leaned her head on Luna and continued to watch the boys.

"I'm scared, Luna," Ginny said quietly, as she watched Harry shake his head and point something out to Ron. Luna stiffened very slightly.

"It _is_ bad, then," she affirmed. Ginny sighed and nodded, though it was not like Luna could see her. "Do you want to tell me what's going on, or aren't you ready to do that yet?"

"I'm pretty confused," Ginny admitted truthfully. "I'm not sure myself what it all means, and that would be enough to worry about, except that the few things it could be are either bad, worse, or disastrous." Luna leaned her head on Ginny's, and Ginny could feel her friend's body slouch into the couch.

"I suppose it's going to get worse before it gets better."

"Yes, unfortunately that always seems to be the way of things."

"You'll tell me if you need anything, right?" Luna asked, as close to displaying fear as Ginny had ever seen.

"I'll tell you as soon as I possibly can." Ginny felt like the conversation needed to get out of the bleak direction it was heading into. She wasn't enthralled with the idea of reviewing the past few weeks just now, particularly when she was feeling more like herself than she had in a while. So she went to the old fallback, a game that she and her friends had been playing ever since third year. "Ron Weasley or Sheldon Wilde?" she asked nonchalantly.

"Oh my. Sheldon. Certainly Sheldon." Ginny's attention piqued at this response. Luna had never given such an earnest answer before. Usually she livened up the game by giving odd answers that no one was expecting, and then supporting them with hilarious explanations.

The best one had been during fourth year when she'd chosen Theodore Nott over Andy McGrath, because he 'is attractive to pluckbutters,' and she would be able to get them to dance on her toast (thus buttering it) at the breakfast table without any coaxing. Apparently coaxing pluckbutters to dance on your toast was heady business. It had been quite the coup for the squirrelly Slytherin.

"Got a bit of a thing for the younger Mr. Wilde, do you?" Ginny inquired playfully. Yes, it was nice to be herself again, even for a little while.

"Maybe I do."

"I like him. He respects you." Luna's friends knew that she wasn't treated very kindly by most people, even in her own House. Sheldon was a marked exception, and had fairly broken his best friend (and good friend of Ginny's) Roman of the habit of making fun of her. Ginny wondered if he didn't have a thing for Luna as well. It would certainly be nice to find a bloke who thought Luna was as pretty with radish earrings and bottle-cap necklaces as she was without.

"He does, and he doesn't have albino brain-chiggers in his hair either," Luna replied. _A virtue, indeed_, Ginny thought, as her smile grew. The two girls burst out laughing, and drew the boys' attention once more. Harry smiled again (and a bit bigger this time), while Ron looked a bit put out at having been interrupted by his pesky little sister and "that nutter" Loony Lovegood. Ginny stood up an grabbed her friend's hand to pull her up as well.

"I'm starving, let's go get some snacks from the kitchens." Luna's eyes lit up as if she had been hoping against hope that Ginny would say exactly that. Ginny shook her head in amusement and they left the boys to their mysterious work.


	7. To See and Be Seen

**CHAPTER 6**

**To See and Be Seen**

Ginny was so exhausted after Quidditch practice that she fell asleep in the shower—twice—and almost nodded off again when she sat down to put on her socks. She hung up her practice clothes in her locker to dry off, and collected her broom to head back to Gryffindor Tower.

She could barely keep her eyes open, and decided that the only reason she had been able to keep from falling off her broom during practice was a combination of the freezing cold rain that was coming down in blankets and her body's instinct to mindlessly adjust and adapt its hold on the broom, whether with her hand or her legs, as she moved through the air.

Ginny thought she had done a little better in practice that day than she had been performing of late, but she couldn't really be sure. As she looked around her, having re-entered the castle some time ago, she discovered that through the fog of her sleepy haze she had wandered past the Great Hall in the opposite direction of the common room (and more importantly, the common room fire).

Turning to her left, she saw the one staircase that could bring her swiftly to a shortcut begin to change into a most inconvenient direction. "Oh, sod it," she grumbled to herself, and proceeded to take the long way through the dungeons.

As soon as she had descended the steps down to the dungeon level, she became aware of two things. The first was that the temperature had dropped about fifteen degrees. Bloody insane Slytherins.

The second was that she was most definitely being watched. Or followed. Probably both.

Not particularly prone to bouts of paranoia, Ginny did not fling her head from side to side frantically searching for her clandestine observer. Instead she kept walking through the halls, broom securely in hand. Perhaps she was just too tired to care.

It was hard to say exactly what was going through her mind just then, because her body, at long last, threw its hands up (figuratively, mind you) and quit. She fainted dead away, collapsing in an exhausted heap in the heart of Slytherin territory, broom still tightly clutched in her hand.

The next thing she knew, Ginny was again aware of someone's eyes on her, only this time it felt as though the source of her scrutiny must be staring unabashedly at her from no more than two feet away. She squirmed a bit in annoyance and brought a hand up to wipe the sleep from her eyes, using the other hand to prop herself up in bed, at which point she was quite startled to discover that she was not lying in her bed at all, but was instead sprawled out on a floor somewhere, and that it was freezing.

She quickly opened her eyes to find, unsurprisingly, that there was in fact someone staring at her from about ten inches away. What did surprise her was that the someone was Draco Malfoy.

They stared dumbly at each other for almost a minute until Ginny's brain became slightly less foggy and she scrambled to find her feet—and her wand. Doing a quick inventory . . . wand, broom, limbs, clothes . . . (seriously, who knew what Draco _sodding_ Malfoy was capable of? With a father like Lucius, one could never be too careful).

Everything seemed to be in order. Now she was confused. He was still staring at her as she gave herself the once-over and had not said a word. She found this as curious as his unexpected appearance at Grimmauld Place on September 1. With this in mind, she looked him straight in the eye—getting quite impatient with all the staring and no talking—and broke the strange silence.

"Well, Malfoy, do you like what you see?" she asked saucily. "Or do I still have mud all over me?" She looked down at her skirt and checked her shoes in mock seriousness. "Or maybe that's how you like it, yeah? Nice and dirty?" she added, taunting him with a feral smile.

"Hardly, _Weaselette_," Draco insisted, attempting to roll his eyes—though Ginny noticed that, with his apparent desire to keep them trained on her, his eyes did not exactly cooperate. "In your dreams, I'm sure." It was a jab, to be sure, but again, much like his behavior on the train, it was like he was simply going through the motions for the sake of appearances.

"So what's your deal, then, Malfoy—are you a little Death Eater spy or is your mum really trying to keep you out of all that nonsense? Whose side are you on?" Draco's expression hardened into—it was difficult to tell exactly what emotion was behind it (if in fact Draco Malfoy possessed human emotions), but it might have been a mix between worry and bitterness.

"I'm on my own side," he replied, colder than before, but still not quite able to sound as haughty and dangerous as he had in the past.

"Oh, yes," Ginny said indulgently. "Slytherin self-preservation and all that. Fair enough, I guess. I always wondered how all those Slytherins could stomach being Death Eaters, having to bow down to a master and what not. Only, I'm not so sure you're as stocked with self-possession as you'd like to think you are, Malfoy." Draco's eyes burned into her as she taunted him, but there was still that hint of bitterness that perplexed her.

And then something strange happened.

They were already standing relatively close to each other, certainly closer than she'd ever been to him before, and he began walking toward her. With each step he took forward, she took one back, until she was pressed up against a wall and he was very much intruding on her personal space. With his face only inches from hers, he let his eyes wander over her body, up and down her figure, as if they were slowly drinking her in.

She was immediately reminded of Harry doing the same thing when he had first arrived at Grimmauld Place during the summer, but he had sent through her body sensations that were very different from the ones she was feeling now. The way Draco looked her over made her feel violated. Harry had made her feel desirable. And his gentle, warm green eyes were the opposite of the cold, angry grey ones scanning her features now. She shivered in disgust.

"Merlin and Agrippa, you'd think you've never seen a teenage girl before, Malfoy," she said in hope of distracting him. She succeeded.

"I've seen enough of teenage girls to know you're nothing special, Weaselette," he shot back nastily, much more like the Draco she was used to.

"Then why don't you get a firm grip on your horses and quit ogling me like a piece of meat at the market," she demanded. "Nasty little toerag," she added under her breath, but just loud enough so he might hear.

"Oh, and who would be better?" he challenged. "I suppose you'd let your little bastard of a boyfriend stare at your," and here he gazed pointedly at her chest, "meager assets all night long if he wanted to, hmm? Oh, wait, that's right. Potter wouldn't notice you if you were naked and on fire in front of him. I guess he won't be making the same mistake his father did, disgracing his pureblood line with a dirty little redhead."

The fact that she was, in fact, a pureblooded witch mattered very little as Ginny's fist came around so fast that Malfoy never had a chance. As she shook her now-throbbing right hand, she heard purposeful footsteps approaching over the quiet cursing and stumbling of her adversary. She lit her wand to find the Head Boy walking up to them.

"What seems to be the problem here?" he asked, crossing his arms and looking every bit the part of a stern disciplinarian. Ginny massaged her right hand with her left.

"I was exhausted after Quidditch practice, and wandered the wrong way. I think I passed out here in the hallway, and when I woke up, Malfoy" she spat his name, "was practically on top of me and staring at me. Then he cornered me against this wall and started running his mouth, and really creeping me out, so I punched him." She looked at Draco, who was no longer leaning over in pain, but now standing upright, tenderly feeling out the extent of the shiner he was going to have tomorrow. "And he bloody deserved it, too. Jealous wanker."

"Is this all true, Draco?" Ginny thought it sounded funny to hear someone call Malfoy by his first name. Then again, Baron always called the students he knew by their proper first names. Draco scowled and glared at Ginny, still ministering to his slightly swollen face.

"Mostly, except that I _wasn't _on top of her—though I'm sure she _wishes_ I was—and I didn't deserve a sodding right hook to the cheek just for telling the _truth_." Ginny lunged at him again, but Baron held her back. Her jaw hardened with anger as she stood there trying to control her magic. She liked Baron and didn't want to hurt him, and it would be a disaster if Malfoy found out about her wandless abilities.

"Draco, you will cease your unnecessary and improper comments, or you will exacerbate your punishment, do you understand?" Draco huffed and pouted, but shut up. Baron turned back to a barely self-restrained Ginny.

"Ginevra, I'm going to give you detention and take 30 points from Gryffindor. Regardless of what someone says, there is no excuse for resorting to violence." Ginny calmed down and nodded glumly in acknowledgement. She could care less about points and a detention. Clocking Malfoy in his oversized melon had been _bloody worth it_. Baron turned his attention to the ferrety git next to her.

"Draco, I'm taking ten points from Slytherin for harassment of another student. If this happens again, the consequences will be a great deal more severe, is that clear? And rest assured that if you even put one _toe_ out of line, I will hear about it." Draco rolled his eyes and mumbled that he understood. "Go back to the common room," he ordered Malfoy, at which point Ginny relaxed considerably. She looked up to find Baron studying her thoughtfully.

"Do you need an escort back to your dormitory?" he asked, much less sternly than before. Ginny wondered if he wasn't used to dealing with girls trying to beat the crap out of arrogant little prats like Malfoy. His sister Gretchen really didn't kid around. "It is already well past curfew, and you would risk being caught again if you went by yourself." The fact that it was so late made Ginny wonder how long she had been out of it, lying in the middle of the floor with Creepy McFerretface ogling her.

"I would appreciate that, thank you," she replied, slightly taken aback. The extent of their acquaintance had never gone past greetings in the hallway between classes or brief words on the Quidditch pitch. She was intrigued, to say the least, as they began the trek to Gryffindor Tower.

"How is your hand?" he inquired when she started massaging it again.

"Sore," she answered honestly. "I've never punched anyone before, but I'm not sure I didn't hurt myself more than I hurt him." Baron nodded, but no hint of emotion or reaction crossed his features. Perhaps Malfoy had missed the day where all the rest of the Slytherins had learned to so precisely control their expressions.

"I would suggest you not make a habit of it," he proposed, and Ginny laughed.

"Baron Patrick Ares Ramsey, the fourth, was that a joke?" she asked sarcastically, still chuckling, eyes twinkling. He paused and looked at her for a moment as they walked.

"Only if you swear on Potter's Firebolt that you will keep it to yourself," he answered, the corners of his mouth twitching ever so slightly upward. Ginny laughed with delight.

They spent the rest of the trip discussing Quidditch, which was a relatively safe topic, seeing as their upcoming games were not against each other.

"You will, I fear, have very little trouble disposing of Ravenclaw," he admitted as they came up to the Fat Lady. "Miss Chang is simply no match for Potter, and the rest of their team is not nearly good enough to overcome the deficit. Particularly because one of Gryffindor's Chasers is the fastest flier in the school, and another is very experienced and, frankly, superb." Ginny smiled at Baron's compliments to her and Katie. "Your friend, Roman, is a superior keeper to your brother, but that will matter very little in the balance of things."

He was right; Roman Keselica was better than Ron, but this year the pool of Keepers might be the best since her brother Charlie was at school. Oliver Wood had been the only Hogwarts Keeper to go on to play professionally since Charlie had graduated. This year, however, boasted two that were at least as good as Wood had been in his school days—Baron and Roman—and two more that were still likely better than most of the other ring-tenders the school had seen since before Ginny started at Hogwarts.

"Hufflepuff has excellent beaters, you know," she offered in exchange. "And your Seekers should be pretty evenly matched."

"Yes, while it is true that no one is in the same class as your twin brothers, Bruce and Miss Bowen are certainly the best tandem in the school this year." Ginny glanced at the Fat Lady.

"Thank you for walking me back. It's really not like me to lose my cool like that," she offered apologetically. Baron nodded solemnly in understanding.

"You are very welcome. I trust our conversations in the future will arise from pleasanter circumstances. I enjoyed talking with you." Ginny smiled.

"Good night, Baron," she said with a playful curtsey, as she usually did in greeting him.

"Good night, Ginevra," he replied with a nod, and though he did not deign to smile, his eyes twinkled with what Ginny suspected to be mirth.

When he was out of sight, Ginny gave the password and finally made her way into the Gryffindor common room. As she entered through the portrait hole, she thought she felt something brush past her. But she hadn't seen anything around her, and was much too keen on finding her bed to investigate further. The exhaustion that had overtaken her in the dungeons was quickly returning, and she barely made it to her four-poster before she passed out again.

Her exhaustion had to catch up with her sometime, and tonight was the night. Her encounter with Draco and ensuing conversation with the Head Boy had raised her adrenaline level to a point which made her temporarily forget her exhaustion, as well as her desperate efforts against surrendering to the dream she knew was coming for her.

Not that she could have done anything about it, but having forgotten even for a couple hours made the shock and horror that much worse as the dream hit her at around one o'clock in the morning.

_This time she fought, fought harder than she imagined was possible; fought Mrs. Black's whispered coaxing, battled the voice in her mind that kept reminding her of how incredible that rush of power would feel—this curse being the most powerful of all . . . ._

_. . . . and at this notion, this suggestion that Avada Kedavra, the dreaded Killing Curse, was the most powerful spell of all, Ginny thought of Harry—thought that the infamous and horrible flash of green light couldn't be the most powerful magic there was, because Harry had beat it; somehow when he was a baby, something about him had deflected the curse and all but destroyed Voldemort . . . if she only knew what the cause had been . . . if it had even been real . . . ._

_And just like that, the smallest sliver of insecurity about what had defeated Voldemort's Killing Curse, about whether it had really been conquered, subordinated to another, stronger power, or merely a fluke, a miracle, a once-in-a-lifetime meting out of justice, swallowed her defenses and she smoothly cast the Killing Curse on the Sirius Black in her dreams._

_As the incantation left her lips, she felt like she was going to explode, like magic was rushing, flooding through her body, as if she were attempting a 500-foot vertical dive on her broom, blindfolded. Only it was better. It was like a drug, completely intoxicating, and she thought briefly as her hand made the appropriate wand movements, that she would definitely have to do this again._

_And then the feeling, the power-induced drunken haze, passed, and she saw the curse hit its target._

_But instead of the surprise, the utter disbelief that Harry had seen on his godfather's face a few months before, Ginny saw pain—pain and anguish written on the face and drawn on the body of the best and bravest man she knew. As the animated Mrs. Black cackled wildly about justice and revenge, all Ginny could do was wail, scream, and lash out. _

_Her heart broke as she realized how Harry must have felt when Sirius fell through the veil—except that in her dream, it was Ginny, not Bellatrix Lestrange, who put him there. It was her, the girl who thought she loved Sirius more than anyone after Harry and Remus, who struck him down, who snuffed out his life with the ease and calmness of his deranged cousin. _

_Yes, in that moment, as in the other two moments when she had succumbed to the darkness of her mind, Ginny was no different from Bellatrix. _

_She was the same kind of person—if "person" was still the right word—as the woman who had tortured thousands of innocent Muggles and Wizards, who had tortured Neville's parents into madness and destroyed his childhood, who had probably had a hand in killing the Potters, who had tried to kill Harry, and who had aimed the decisive curse at Sirius in the Department of Mysteries. She was becoming the woman who had threatened to torture her, "the smallest one," the "little girl," in the hall of prophecies at the Ministry, but then Harry . . . ._

_Harry had stepped in front of her. Like the Patronus that took his form, he had not hesitated for an instant to protect her, instinctively putting himself between her and the Cruciatus Curse Bellatrix was burning to cast. _

Thoughts of Harry sent warmth flooding through her, and Ginny gasped as she woke up.

Knowing that the worst pain of her life would be setting in soon, she crept out of bed and made a beeline for the sixth-year boys dormitory. She was determined to get to her brother before it hit, desperately hoping that his proximity would help her feel safe. As she arrived at the door of the room, she slowed, and carefully opened the door.

Tip-toeing inside and straight for Ron's four-poster, a glance to her left told her that Seamus was out of bed, and that Dean and Neville were sound asleep in theirs. Ron's curtains were closed except for the side that faced Harry's bed, and as she crept forward in the darkness, she sensed that he wasn't there. Rushing up to the side of his bed, she confirmed what she had been dreading. He wasn't there. In her hour of need, the time she had needed him most, Ron had deserted her again.

A sob burst from her chest and she quickly slapped her hand over her mouth as she collapsed against his bed, now completely devoid of any hope or comfort as the aftermath of her dream approached. Choking down sobs, she immediately began casting the strongest silencing charms she could manage—and doubly fortifying them—over Ron's and Harry's beds.

As she did so, she failed to notice that the small commotion she was making had awakened Harry before she finished silencing the area around his bed. So, when he spoke, she jumped and whirled around to face him.

"Ginny, what's wrong?" he asked with urgency, concern etched all over his face. Ginny looked like a wreck, which was appropriate, since she felt like one. She was shaking, and flinched when Harry reached out to touch her arm.

It was as if his touching her set off the marathon of pain she had been dreading and anticipating. She collapsed as her face contorted with the silent screams that could not escape her throat. Harry immediately hauled her up onto his own bed, closing the curtains around them as he pulled her tightly into an embrace. As she thrashed and jerked and gasped for breath, he tightened his arms around her stomach, whispering continuously in her ear that she was going to be okay, that she was safe, that it was just a dream.

Both of them lost all trace of time; Ginny, because she knew nothing but the icy-hotness of the fire that sliced through her heart and, it felt like, her soul; Harry, because he fell into a trance of his own feeble attempts to pacify her. Everywhere that her magic seemed to lurk felt like it was being torn to shreds. The feeling that she wanted to die, anything it took just to make it stop, retuned stronger than ever.

And yet, there was a constant in the background; in the periphery of consciousness she felt a warmth flowing against the cold that was torturing her. She didn't know whether she felt it, heard it, saw it, or smelled it—as all of her senses were confused and slurred together in the pain and semi-consciousness—but she forced her mind to grab it and hold on for dear life. It was a life preserver in the sea of darkness that was trying to pull her into its swirling vortex. As long as she held on, she thought she might be able to outlast the pain.

If Harry had stopped talking to her for even a second, if he had loosened his grip on her the smallest bit, she may have surrendered. But like the sound and sturdy walls of the school they loved, he did not waver, and he did not fail. For the second time in their lives, Harry Potter saved her soul from the heavy and all-consuming darkness that threatened to swallow her whole.

When, at length, the horror had passed, Ginny's body fell limp and Harry loosened his grip on her, afraid that he would hurt her. Both of them were panting as if they had just run a sprint around the lake, and they were sweating profusely from the exertion. Harry glanced at the clock on his nightstand through a slit between his curtains. It was already after three in the morning. When he moved to get a drink of water from where his half-full glass stood next to the clock, Ginny froze, clutching to him to keep him from leaving her.

Her own sudden movement seemed to wake her from the stupor she had been in, and she blearily turned to look up at the boy whose bed she had unknowingly commandeered. It took her muddled brain a few seconds to realize she was laying half-way in his lap, gripping him at the ribs, but when her eyes finally registered his face, she sprang to the other side of the bed, flushing with embarrassment and trying to remember what in the name of Merlin and Agrippa she was doing there.

She gulped and choked out a sob, the first noise she was able to make since being overtaken by the pain. When she had calmed down, she finally bolstered herself enough to look Harry in the eye. His face was ashen with concern.

"Are you past . . . whatever it is that was?" he asked tentatively, both horrified at what he had witnessed and worried at the prospect of it happening again.

In later years, after Ginny had been forced to endure the Cruciatus Curse on several occasions, she would be able to decisively declare that the pain that followed this particular dream was, in fact, the worst of the two. While she would know it for the horror that it was, the Cruciatus Curse could not compare to this. In a foggy attempt to answer Harry's question, she blinked and responded in a scratchy voice that barely rose above a whisper.

"How long was it?" she asked. Harry cleared his throat.

"Um, it was about an hour and 45 minutes from start to finish," he said, roughly working out the math in his head. Ginny sighed somewhat in relief. She didn't think she would have to endure anything else, tonight, at least.

"I don't think there will be any aftershocks. So far the bouts of pain have only ever been about twenty minutes long. This went much longer, and I doubt there would be more than six times the normal amount. The first time there were two waves, and there were four the second time. This time ought to be six, give or take some, and this was pretty close to two hours. No, I think I'll be fine, now." At this Ginny lay back against the foot of the bed, closing her eyes.

"Wait!" Harry said, believing very urgently that going to sleep was not the wisest coarse of action. He pulled her back up to the head of the bed, shaking her softly awake and situating her next to him.

"Ginny, what is this all about?" He asked the question earnestly and without scolding or pity, and so she told him. Told him that she didn't know what was going on, that she was scared, frightened, that she thought it was Tom, and that he was going to make her do things. Her voice became frantic as she plunged into her worries that Tom was coming back for her, that he would use her to hurt him, and so he wrapped his arms around her once more. Her head fell to his shoulder as she tried to paint for him the images she had seen and the sensations she had felt in her dreams.

She sobbed as she told him about Sirius, and what she had done to him in her dreams, and she didn't dare look up at him, so that he could cry for his godfather if he wanted to, without embarrassment. At certain points in her explanation, he squeezed her tighter, as if his grip on her would keep him from falling apart. Ginny still didn't know what mysterious knowledge had been eating at him and weighing his shoulders down ever since she had watched him in the hospital wing in June, but she thought, as he tightened his embrace yet another time, that it might make him explode.

Because it wasn't just his grief that he was reacting to, but her own fears as well. Her utter disgust and horror at what she had done, even if it hadn't been real. Because it had been real to her; she'd heard Mrs. Black goading her on, she'd felt the intoxicating power of the curses, and as Harry had just found out, she'd endured the aftermath of them as well.

When she had told him everything about her three dreams, her lack of sleep, and her concern about being a puppet of evil in the war, she leaned back next to Harry, and watched him. He had drawn his knees up, and leaned his arms on them as he thought.

After he had scrutinized her face, her pajama-clad body, and his bed linens several times in various sequences, Ginny realized rather abruptly that all she was wearing was a pair of thin cotton boxer shorts and an old, well-worn Gryffindor Quidditch t-shirt from George's first year on the team, which was, she noticed self-consciously, nearly two sizes too small for her.

"You're limp like a ragdoll, Ginny. Are you hurt?" he asked nervously. In a fresh moment of clarity Ginny felt a wave of sympathy for Harry, who she thought must have been completely baffled by what he had been presented with over the course of the last few hours. While he had been somewhat less socially awkward this year, she realized suddenly just how difficult dealing with her might currently be for him.

"No, not hurt. Just exhausted. And scared. And sore," she admitted, truthfully. "My heart hurts." She paused as she felt a furry little someone crawling on her. She broke from their conversation just long enough to lean forward and snatch up Herpo from where he was exploring her legs. Harry watched them as her shoulders and neck relaxed the more she petted and nuzzled his cat.

She was obviously one of Herpo's favorite people, and at one point he stopped cuddling with her to stare back at his owner while she was distracted. Whether some kind of silent communication traveled between cat and boy, is hard to say. But to an observer it might have seemed as though the little grey furball was silently demanding something of his owner, and that the owner was silently, steadfastly agreeing to the charge.

"Ginny, can I ask you something?" he said, trying to gauge her emotional state, but earnestly, as Luna might have asked, and without the pity she had come to expect from her mother or Hermione. She transferred her eyes from the cat curled up against her chest to the intense green stare next to her.

"Sure, Harry. I'm all right for now. We probably ought to deal with whatever this is." Harry nodded in pained agreement.

"Can you speak Parseltongue?" he asked more quietly, as if whispering would make the reference to her experience with the diary a little easier to swallow. She smiled slightly, heartened by his small attempts to be comforting. What he did not realize was that he had already gone well beyond the call of duty in that department.

"I've never actually tried since you came and got me out of the Chamber of Secrets," she admitted. "At first, it scared me, and then I guess I just didn't want to discover anything else that would make me different. I've always sort of suspected that I'm still a Parselmouth, and Dumbledore does, too. But I've never checked to be sure." Harry nodded knowingly.

"You know, if we could both speak it, we could have private conversations in front of Ron and Hermione and they wouldn't have a clue what we're saying," he offered, in an effort to lighten the mood. Ginny smiled somewhat warily and closed her eyes, concentrating very hard on the mental image of a snake. When she went to answer him, her words came out in hisses and sharp breaths.

"It looks like we have our own secret code," she confirmed, turning her head slightly to see Harry's eyebrows pop up a little in surprise. He closed his eyes, too, presumably to answer her in the same language.

"Well, I suppose that's one issue resolved," he hissed back, nearly smiling. She felt a strange comfort at the fact that they both had this particular ability. She wasn't sure what he made of it, but she felt as if her ability to communicate with him this way, just like his discovery that her nocturnal trauma had come to rival his own, finally might make him see that they were two of a kind, that he actually had more in common with her than with anyone else he'd ever known.

"Harry, did I wake you up when I came in here?" she asked, somewhat out of the blue. By her tone, she might have been asking him to name his favorite ice cream flavor; not at all prosecutorily, as he had come to expect from his other friends.

"No," he answered softly.

"Were you going to stay up all night?" she asked in the same, innocuous manner. It was a little while before Harry replied this time.

"I was considering it, yes." At this he leaned his head against hers, and Ginny smiled to herself, partly because she was surprised at the frankness of his answer.

"I wish you wouldn't," she said. "It's only going to get harder from now on." She felt more than heard him sigh, and could visualize him running his free hand through his messy hair.

"I know." He sounded resigned to the imminence of darker times, and she hoped that he knew that she understood what it meant. He gave her shoulder a little squeeze and continued. "I've been watching you for the past few weeks, you know. You could stand to take a little of your own advice." Ginny couldn't help but smile fully at his admission.

"I know, Harry. I suppose we both need to be better at taking care of ourselves." She paused for a moment, wanting to test the boundaries of their ever-expanding friendship. "Harry?"

"Hmm?" She had a feeling his eyes were closed.

"If I went back to my dormitory right now, would you go try to get some sleep?" she asked plainly.

"Yes," he replied, aided by a yawn bursting up from his lungs.

"Are you lying?" She could feel him smile at the question, with a half-chuckle, as if he had been expecting it.

"No." Ginny closed her eyes to indulge the exhaustion that was creeping up on her again.

"Promise?" Another smile, this one more affectionate, though she could not see it.

"I promise."

"Okay," she replied. And it really was.

"Do you believe me?" he asked, somewhat more cautiously than she would have expected. Her eyes were still closed.

"Yes."

"Are you lying?" he repeated back to her. She smiled. It was a two-way street, this honesty thing.

"No."

"Good." Ginny opened her eyes and sat up straight, at which point Harry continued. "So, about these dreams you've been having."

"Yeah." He must have been the only person in the universe besides Luna, who could speak to her mechanically and without some level of pity about Voldemort. And she was grateful.

"I've been thinking about what you said about the feelings you get when you cast these Unforgivables," he admitted, scratching his head with his left hand, as it finally left the warmth of her shoulders. "You said you can't remember ever experiencing that kind of sensation before."

"Not that I can remember, no," she confirmed.

"But it still felt familiar?"

"Yeah, that's the strange thing."

"And Tom left some of himself inside you just like he did with me."

"Looks like it."

"Remember last year when you chewed me out for not remembering that you'd been possessed by Voldemort?" Ginny looked a bit sheepish at the memory.

"Yes." Harry must have heard it in her tone, because he softened a bit.

"I deserved it, you know. You have a tendency to be right about that sort of thing. I acted like a first class git last year, so please don't feel bad about yelling at me." Ginny smirked a little.

"Okay," she heartily agreed. "I promise never to feel bad about yelling at you. Not ever again." He chuckled at her.

"Fair enough. So you remember how told me that you could never recall the periods of time when he possessed you? Like you blacked out or something?

"Yeah," she urged, sensing that he had a theory about what was happening to her.

"You think maybe you felt the same rush of power, the same intoxicating sensation when you were possessed and that's why it feels so familiar even though you can't remember it?" Ginny's head perked up at this suggestion and the gears in her mind began to turn. It certainly made sense.

"It fits what we know so far," she agreed.

"Ginny, were you angry when you cast those curses?"

"No, not at all. It was more that I was just fighting the temptation to do it." Harry furrowed his brow in consternation, and looked at her.

"Nothing leaves this room, yeah?" he asked.

"Right," she assured him.

"Well, at the Department of Mysteries, do you remember how I went running after Bellatrix Lestrange?"

"Yes."

"Well, once we got out into the atrium, I hit her with a Cruciatus Curse. Or, I tried to." Ginny turned her head to watch his face as he spoke.

"But it didn't work?" she asked, trying not to get emotional at his admission. She couldn't say that she was surprised that he had tried it, given the circumstances that brought it on. She _was_ surprised, however, that he was inclined to tell her about it.

"It threw her off her feet, and I think it may have hurt her for a minute or so, but nothing even close to what happens with the real thing. Actually, she heckled me for not being able to carry it off. She told me that righteous anger would never make it hurt her as much as she could hurt me with it. And she was right. I only knocked her down for a second. The Cruciatus is completely debilitating. It's horrible."

"But I could do it because I wasn't justly angry, I was tempted. I wanted to feel that rush of power again." With renewed shame washing over her, Ginny put her face in her hands. "Merlin, what is _happening_ to me?"

"I think we need to tell someone about this."

"Does this mean you don't hate me?" she asked warily. Harry scowled.

"Of course, I don't hate you." Her eyes lifted in hope. "Ginny, if anyone knows how you feel, it's me. In all my nightmares last year, I was the one throwing curses around; even if I was in Voldemort's mind, it still felt like I was a part of it." He paused for a moment, and when he spoke again, it was in a quieter tone.

When I saw the snake attack your dad in the dream, I felt like I _was_ the snake. Whenever I saw Voldemort torturing Death Eaters, it felt like _I_ was the one doing it." He shivered and cocked his head slightly then, and gave her the impression that he had had an epiphany. He looked her in the eye quite intensely.

"You know, I think it's safe to say that the only person I can stand to talk about this with, is you."

And at that moment, with that last sentence, Ginny felt, for the first time, that Harry saw her. _Truly_ saw her. Not as Ron's little sister, not as his study partner or another Quidditch teammate, but as Ginevra Molly Weasley, the one who knew, who understood, and yet was still there at his side.

Though she had been ignored, overlooked, underestimated, and excluded, she had always been there—perhaps in the background, but still always there. And he finally realized that she understood his anger, his sorrow, his guilt, his fear, but most of all, his resolve not to falter, his determination to avenge and protect the people they loved. Because it was her determination, too.

"I'd rather not go to Dumbledore just yet, if it's all the same to you," he said, watching her for a reaction. That was perfectly fine with her. Other than Remus, however, there was only one individual she felt she could tell, and she doubted Harry's resentment toward the headmaster was quite _that_ strong.

"Are you still mad enough at Dumbledore that you're willing to go see Snape instead?" she asked. "I know he's terrible, but he's always told me the truth. And who would know about this stuff better than him? Even if it wasn't full moon, Remus isn't exactly the most accessible guy around. It's up to you, Harry, but I would rather talk to Snape." Harry was openly frowning now at the decision before him. But distrust and dislike were not the same thing, and Ginny hoped that his head was clear enough to make the distinction. Finally he nodded.

"Okay, Snape it is." He paused and looked around. "Dobby?" he called out quietly. Having the complete devotion of a rather resourceful house elf was freaking awesome, Ginny decided. Dobby appeared and left quickly to see if Snape was awake. Upon returning, he made it clear to Harry and Ginny that they were not the only ones saddled with deep personal concerns about Voldemort, or insomnia. They had been instructed to meet him in the Potions classroom. When they set off for the dungeons, Herpo was still tucked snugly in Ginny's arms.

Ginny was about to walk through the door to Snape's classroom when Harry grabbed her arm and held her back.

"Wait," he said with a little urgency in his tone. Ginny looked at him with curiosity and not a little expectation. "Before we go in there," he continued, "a little while ago you said that it's only going to get harder . . . ." Ginny nodded slowly, in anticipation of where he was going with this speech. His face was showing more concern by the second.

"I thinks it's going to start as soon as we walk through that door, if it hasn't already. And if I'm right, the two of us are going to have it much harder than anyone else. I don't mean to scare you, but you don't deserve to have something this big and this horrible sprung on you with no warning. It was sprung on me, and you saw what happened. Sometime soon I'll explain all of it to you, but I've been having extra lessons with Dumbledore and I think I know what we have to do. And you're not going to like it. Suffice it to say, I'm pretty sure I've got to stop Voldemort." He gulped and gazed worriedly but intensely into her eyes. "And you've got to stop yourself from becoming him."

He spoke so earnestly and so calmly that she couldn't help but remain calm herself. She nodded in acceptance, continuing her ministrations to Herpo absent-mindedly. When she made no move to speak, he pressed on, starting to pace.

"I think the high you felt in your dreams was the pull, the seducing factor of the Dark Arts. And I think the cold and the pain you felt afterwards is like the letdown, the equivalent of a hangover. In the research I've been doing with Remus and Dumbledore, the Dark Arts are often compared to a drug addiction—can you see now, how someone would want more and more of that wonderful, powerful feeling, how a wizard might even come to crave it after going to through the pain you just felt?"

He stopped pacing, and looked deep into her eyes, and she was frozen in awe at the bravery, the concern, and the pain she saw in them. She wondered what he was seeing in hers.

"If I'm right," he continued, grabbing her hand—though she wasn't sure if it was to steady her or himself—"Tom didn't just leave his knowledge and his ability to speak Parseltongue behind, he left his susceptibility to the Dark Arts, his craving for them, in you as well. You're still Ginny, of course, but I can't help thinking that you've got some tough battle ahead of you. I do, too, but I'll have help. You probably won't."

She was careful not to break eye contact with him the entire time that he spoke. He glanced at the door and then back at her.

"You ready?" he asked, obviously unsure of what her response would be, given what he had just dropped on her, but she didn't flinch. In the back of her mind she had always thought that Tom would come back to haunt her. And sure enough, even though it was in an indirect way, it looked like he was about to. She squeezed his hand and nodded once.

"Let's do it."

Harry turned to the door of the classroom, and led her inside.

When they entered the familiar, if disdained, classroom, no one was there. Harry had only just begun to scowl, when the familiar snap of the Potions Master's robes came whipping around the doorway as he entered. He closed and charmed the door, and charmed the room the same way he had when Ginny had spoken to him after class during the first week of school.

"What is so important that the upstart Miss Weasley and the famous Mr. Potter feel the need to disturb me at such an hour," he spat at them. Ginny was not fooled. She knew that if he didn't have some interest in what they had to say, he wouldn't have instructed them to meet him at all. She hoped Harry would be able to keep his cool.

"I have been having terrible dreams," she began, and launched into a somewhat shorter explanation than the one she had related to Harry, though she was careful to mention all the important facts. Snape's countenance began to darken the more she went on, and he was scowling deeply by the time she finished. Harry kept looking back and forth between them anxiously. When Ginny finished, she took a deep breath and waited for his response, which turned out to be very similar to what Harry had theorized.

"The coldness feels so familiar, I'm almost positive, because it is causing you to recall the sensations you felt when Tom was pouring his soul into you. That coldness is the inherent state of Dark Magic. Tom Riddle's soul was already so permeated with Darkness at the age he possessed you, that when he tried to invade your body with his own, it felt almost the same as raw Dark power. Tell me, when you call up your wandless magic, do you feel warmth when it is especially powerful?"

"Yes, I do," she replied, nodding sternly as things fell into place. Well, at least Voldemort wasn't using her directly; she didn't have to be constantly on her guard against being possessed or used as a weapon to kill Harry. Then again, having to basically fight a constant and completely internal battle with Tom Riddle didn't sound like a day at the beach either.

"As you might have guessed by now, the warmth is the natural state of light magic, the kind we normally associate with being wizards. You have inherited an incredible amount of lightness through the unique circumstances of your birth and your experience with the diary. Unfortunately, your enhanced powers also make the lure of the Dark Arts that much more tempting. You have a very difficult struggle ahead of you, I daresay."

He abruptly turned and left the room for a moment, to go back into the small office in the rear of the classroom. He emerged with two vials.

"Potter, I believe you have also been having difficulty sleeping recently?" Snape asked rhetorically. "These vials contain enough dreamless sleep potion to last you until the Christmas holidays. A cap-full every night before bed should do the trick. While the potion will give us more time and allow the two of you to catch up on your sleep," he turned and looked pointedly at Ginny, "about which, I am told, you have been sorely delinquent of late, you will have to work very hard on top of your required curriculum in order to be able to adequately protect yourselves by the end of the term, after which I will be forced to allow you the potion only sparingly. It has dangerous and addictive properties if relied on too extensively." When they had taken the vials from him, he walked toward the door, unlocking it and removing the wards as he did.

"And Miss Weasley," he said, pausing in the doorway. "You will report here for remedial Potions every Monday and Thursday at ten o'clock." And he was gone.

Harry explained to her that "remedial Potions" likely meant "Occlumency lessons," which made sense, considering her earlier request for them and her well-known lack of deficiency in Potions. When they reached the stairs separating the boys from the girls' dormitories, they stopped and watched each other. Harry broke the silence with his worried tone.

"Are you going to be all right?" Ginny carefully handed Herpo back to his owner, and smiled grimly.

"Yes, but I don't want to talk about it right this minute. It's quite a bit to take in, and I'm not ready to discuss it. You can understand that, right?" Harry nodded.

"Of course, I understand. You're taking this much better than I did." Her eyes met his with curiosity. "I trashed Dumbledore's office when he told me about the prophecy," he watched her reaction intently, now, "when he told me that I'm the only one who can destroy Voldemort, and that I have some power that is the only way to defeat him." Ginny willed her eyes not water at his admission, and she bit her lip to keep her countenance even.

He remained still as her eyes searched out his scar, and she reached up to touch it gingerly with her finger. Herpo stopped his squirming to watch the interaction. Harry closed his eyes as she touched his forehead, and she finished her attentions by tucking a lock of his shaggy black hair to the side. When he opened his eyes, she was not quite smiling.

"You're not going to stay up the rest of the night, are you?" she asked him, glancing out one of the common room windows to see that the sun would be rising soon. His face relaxed and his eyes twinkled.

"No," he replied as Herpo began to climb up onto his shoulder.

"Are you lying?" she asked, biting her bottom lip.

"No," he said, as the corners of his mouth began to twitch.

"Okay."

"Do you believe me?" he asked her, earnestly.

"Yes," she said nodding once, and reaching out to give Herpo an affectionate scratch behind the ears.

"Are you lying?" he prompted her, smiling fully now. She returned it in kind.

"No, I'm not lying, Harry."

"Good night, Ginny," he offered, watching her as she started to make her way up the girls' staircase. Before rounding the corner to find her bedroom, she turned back to him.

"'Night, Harry," she said, and resumed her way back to the dormitory.

Signs for the first Hogsmeade trip of the year went up the day before Halloween. The next few weeks looked promising for the students at Hogwarts, as Halloween week was followed by the first Quidditch match of the season, Slytherin vs. Hufflepuff. Hogsmeade was scheduled for the weekend after, and Gryffindor's first match (against Ravenclaw) was set for the weekend after that.

Except that Ginny couldn't be bothered. The date of their first Quidditch match was the only important one, as far as she was concerned. She was somewhat surprised at how little she cared about the approach of another Hogsmeade weekend. But then, things were different this year, weren't they?

Last year her brothers had still been around, and Hermione had called the meeting at the Hogs Head, so trips still held the excitement that she'd felt in her third year. But this year she no longer had a boyfriend and would, in all honesty, be perfectly happy to spend that entire day sleeping if she thought for a moment that she wouldn't be spending the whole time studying.

As December approached, Ginny reckoned that she'd almost caught up to where the sixth-year N.E.W.T. classes were in their studies. But with her three O.W.L.'s getting closer every day, Ginny had begun to alternate her studies every seven days, learning new material one week and revising for her exams the next.

Transfiguration was the only one giving her a little bit of trouble, but staying after class for help from Professor McGonagall had cleared her problems right up.

At any rate, it was safe to say that Ginny had quite forgotten about the planned outing to Hogsmeade by the end of the first week of November.

She had forgotten, that is, until Duncan Moran sauntered up to her in the hallway after classes ended that Friday.

"Ginny!" he called to her, causing her and Kerney to turn as they came out of the Charms classroom. She smiled. It was hard not to do that when a boy as good-looking and charming as Duncan Moran was approaching you, regardless of whether you fancied him or not.

"Duncan!" she responded in kind, earning a smile from him, and a snort of amusement from the Kernel. She thought she heard her friend mumble something like "and now, it starts," but couldn't tell for sure.

"Nice to see you again, Miss Scott," he said kindly to Kerney, who, despite her fervent belief that Duncan was for the most part a useless git, shared a humorous acquaintance with him by virtue of their connection through Ginny. She also had been forced to admit once, in the course of playing the question game, not only that she thought Duncan was one of the best looking blokes in the school, but that she would not be averse to a good, thorough snog, should the occasion ever arise. So his attentions were not the least bit unwelcome, on either account.

"I have to go meet Matt and Gabe just now, but I was wondering, Ginny," and he focused his light brown eyes on her rich chocolate-y ones as he leaned in a little closer, "if you'd go with me to Hogsmeade next weekend." Ginny blinked and didn't respond for a moment, out of sheer lack of understanding. It wasn't until Kerney elbowed her in the ribs that she came back to the conversation.

"I'm sorry, what?" she asked incredulously. Kerney sighed and shook her head.

"I asked you on a date to Hogsmeade," he replied bluntly. Luckily for Ginny, Duncan Moran was not the type of boy who was either shy or easily deterred by a girl's lack of positive response to his overtures.

"Oh, right. Hogsmeade." Ginny was quite at a loss. More for lack of anything else to say than an actual inclination to go, she looked up at Duncan and said, "all right, sure." He smiled his big, lovely, toothy smile, and leaned in to kiss her on the cheek. Ginny continued to stand in the middle of the hallway, blinking dazedly as he did.

"Talk to you later, then, Ginny," he said happily as he walked away. "Bye Kerney!" he shouted jubilantly. The Kernel waved back overzealously (to say nothing of mockingly). At Ginny's continued look of shocked numbness, Kerney began to laugh heartily. Ginny did not appreciate this.

"What the hell was that!" she shouted insistently, pointing in the direction that Duncan had gone.

"I was wondering when this was going to start," the Kernel said cryptically.

"What do you mean _this_?" Ginny asked suspiciously. She did not like being out of the loop, whether it had to do with the Order or stupid boys who were stupid and hot and asking her on stupid Hogsmeade dates. _Oh, Ron is going to go ballistic_, she thought with exasperation.

"I just mean that I won't be surprised if you get asked to Hogsmeade 47 more times before next weekend." Ginny groaned. Kerney laughed again at her pain. Then Ginny's head seemed to clear for a moment.

"Wait a minute," she started, her suspicion building. "You're full of it, Scott. Complete bollocks. Since when were you _expecting_ Duncan _bloody_ Moran to ask me to Hogsmeade?"

"Since he stopped shagging Marcia McLean two weeks ago and started staring at you in the common room," the Kernel replied simply. Ginny closed her eyes and sighed in resignation.

"No, but for real, _Duncan Moran_? Did I just imagine that?" Ginny asked, with not a little shrillness in her tone, and wondering why she wasn't the least bit excited when the fantasy of every other girl in the school had just come true for her. "Wait, he was shagging _Marcia McLean_? That girl's built like the prow of a ship! What in the name of Agrippa does he want with _me_, then?"

Kerney gave her a patronizing look.

"Well, he's not getting anything from _me_ other than a healthy dose of my winning personality." She paused for a moment to reconsider. "Okay, and maybe a good snog." The Kernel laughed quite hard at this and patted Ginny on the back as they continued on their way to Gryffindor Tower.

The Kernel proved to be very wise, indeed. By the end of the weekend, ten more boys had asked Ginny to Hogsmeade, and she had to admit that she appreciated Duncan's invitation in one regard, at least, as it gave her a legitimate reason to turn all the others down. She became extremely disgruntled as she sat in the stands at the Slytherin-Hufflepuff game, and could barely track the progress of the match with the number of blokes who tried their luck.

Ginny was amazed that Ron hadn't yet become aware of her new-found popularity, and not a little relieved. Half of the anxiety she felt at all these boys asking her out was in anticipation of the rows she would inevitably have to face when Ron found out. The other half was embarrassment and discomfort at being so singled out (often by blokes she barely knew) and then having to say no.

She felt badly, like she was being mean, and she hated to contribute to the inevitable beating down their self-confidence would suffer in being rejected. But not so much that she would rather get their hopes up. At least Duncan would be the least put out when she decided to break things off. She didn't feel the slightest bit bad about _that_. The bloke was practically a god at their school, and would find a replacement for her soon enough. And she had the feeling his affections weren't exactly the deep, profound sort to begin with.

In the end, Slytherin did beat Hufflepuff, though it was only by 40 points. The game had gone on for over six hours by the time Malfoy barely out-reached Barry Summerby to get the Snitch. And although Hufflepuff had scored eleven goals to Slytherin's zero, Baron Ramsey had played an inspired game as Keeper for Slytherin, seeing as Hufflepuff had pretty much poured a six-hour assault of shots down on him.

Jamie Bowen and Bruce Healy had wiped the floor with Crabbe and Goyle, and had so frustrated the Slytherin Chasers that seventh-year Dante Caulfield had been thrown out of the game four hours in, after he tried to knock Jamie Bowen off her broom. Bowen and Healy's stellar play had allowed the Hufflepuff Chasers free reign on poor Baron, who had made spectacular save after spectacular save to keep his team in the game.

And despite the fact that she utterly loathed Draco Malfoy, and even though he had never been able to beat Harry to the Snitch, she couldn't deny that he was an excellent Seeker in his own right. She wasn't the least bit confident that she could beat him in head-to-head competition.

He was smaller than Harry now, and a little lighter, but it was hard to believe that those advantages would change the outcome of their rivalry this year. Roman had been right in his initial estimation that Harry would be much harder to bump and shove off the Snitch, and there was just no competing with a Firebolt—or Harry's complete disregard for his own health and safety when he was in hot pursuit.

At any rate, it looked as though the match-up of the year was still going to be her and Katie Bell against Jamie and Bruce. If the Gryffindor Chasers got in over their heads, Harry was certainly up to the task when it came to getting the Snitch in time, but Ginny was determined to prevent that from happening.

They would really have to bring their "A" game, and Ginny was thankful that they didn't play Hufflepuff until the last game of the year, so that Betsy would already have two games and a whole season of practices under her belt by then. By the spring, Ginny believed Stephen would be able to hold his own against the Hufflepuff phenoms, but she had no doubt that the duo was going to make Jack Sloper look like a clown. Ron would need to put in a solid performance, and Katie and Ginny would have to play the best games of their careers.

But first they had to play Ravenclaw in two weeks, and Ginny was curious to see how Harry would cope with playing against Cho Chang for the first time in two years.

Ginny had planned it perfectly. She had asked Harry one evening after their Potions session when the D.A. was going to revisit the Patronus Charm. He'd told her that they would start working on it the first meeting after the Hogsmeade weekend. So Ginny would just make up some excuse not to go to the first several meetings after that. Easy enough. It appeared that she would be able to move forward in her life, dignity still intact.

Except that, by the last meeting before the Hogsmeade weekend, everyone ended up mastering the conjunctivitis curse much faster than Harry had anticipated . . . so the group voted to dive right into Patronuses. Ginny's insides seemed to disappear. She couldn't very well just up and leave the meeting—Harry would wonder why, and she was determined not to lie to him. Even about something that would so completely sabotage their new friendship.

Leave it to Hermione to unknowingly try to ruin her life by taking it upon herself to make sure that Ginny could do the charm.

"Hermione, I'm good. Seriously, I can do it now. I don't need to practice." Ginny was trying to keep her tone casual and light, but the agony of anticipating the one question she didn't want to answer was making it very difficult.

"Oh, really?" Hermione brightened significantly at this development. _Here it comes_, Ginny thought to herself. "That's wonderful, Ginny! What form does it take?" she continued, her enthusiasm almost causing Ginny to feel guilty about not telling her.

"Er . . . well, actually," she really hated doing this. "I'm not sure," she lied. Or did she? Ginny suddenly got an idea, and forced herself to match Hermione's interest. "In fact, I was hoping you could help me figure it out." As Ginny knew it would, that got Hermione, hook, line, and sinker.

"Sure, Ginny, what do you need?" She would have to word this carefully. It was a fine line between outright lying and just not correcting other people's assumptions. But it was a line that might let Ginny sleep better at night. Plus, if Hermione ever did find out what it really was, she would be the one most likely to understand and sympathize with Ginny's motives for keeping it a secret. Besides Harry, of course, who would, in all likelihood, be horrified with embarrassment if it got out.

"Well, I was wondering if you could do some research and find out what it is. What with O.W.L.'s and Quidditch and the D.A., I just haven't had the time to do it myself." Hermione nodded in earnest understanding. So maybe the bit about O.W.L. studies was a little manipulative. But if Ginny was going to pull off this ruse, she really had to sell it. "It's not a big deal, or anything, but it would be nice to know more about my protector." And wasn't that the truth.

"Oh, Ginny, of course it would. It's always fascinating to analyze the connections between wizards and their corresponding animals, whether you're talking about your Animagus form or the manifestation of your Patronus. I'm pretty busy with Prefect duties and N.E.W.T. classes, but I wouldn't want you to skimp on your O.W.L. revision. I'll try to get into the library whenever I can, okay?" Ginny smiled.

"Thanks a lot, Hermione. I really appreciate the help." Now there was one last thing Ginny had to get over before she would be safe for a while.

"Well, do you think you could show me what it looks like so I can get an idea of what the mystery animal is? This is so exciting, I bet it's a mythological creature, and those are so rare!" Ginny stifled a cringe at the suggestion of a demonstration, and dove into the next manipulation.

"Actually, I doubt I could do it right now, Hermione. I haven't been sleeping lately and it's draining my practical ability. I've been just horrid in my O.W.L. classes lately. Thank Merlin we don't need a wand for Potions, or Professor Snape would be making my life miserable!" Ginny decided that she would much rather deal with Hermione mothering her about not sleeping than reveal the real reason she was declining to perform the spell.

"Why haven't you been sleeping? Ginny, you know that sleep is a very important aspect of good study habits. You need proper sleep to maximize your learning potential during the day."

"I know, but there's so much work, and I've been having," she leaned in and lowered her voice for effect, "I've been having nightmares recently," which wasn't a lie, either. Only she neglected to add that the nightmares were making her believe that she'd be possessed and used as the weapon to destroy Harry.

"Oh, Ginny, why didn't you say anything?" At least to this question, Ginny could respond in earnest.

"Hermione, really, it's okay. You and Ron need to concentrate on Harry. Don't trouble yourself with me. It's not like I've never had them before, right? I've been dealing with them ever since my first year. I have good friends in my year that will be there if I need them." Hermione considered Ginny's words thoughtfully, and it seemed to remind the older girl of something.

"Oh, the fifth year Prefect, Kerney Scott, she's one of your friends, right?" Ginny used quite a bit of self-control to keep from sighing with exasperation. Ron wasn't the only one who needed to open his eyes to the rest of the school. _Yes, Hermione_, Ginny thought in annoyance, _she's_ _only like my best friend at Hogwarts_.

"Yes, of course," she answered out loud.

"Oh, wonderful. I just thought maybe you could let me know what kind of job you think she's doing as a Prefect so far." By Hermione's tone, Ginny got the feeling that Hermione was fishing for a less than positive response. Putting aside, for a moment, the fact that Kerney was doing an admirable job in the position, Ginny's loyalty to her friend incited her protective instincts.

"She's great," Ginny said as Hermione frowned. "She gets on very well with the younger kids, and manages to keep Colin and Holden from making terrible nuisances of themselves. She and Othello seem to be working very well as a team." Ginny crossed her arms in front of her as she waited for Hermione's response.

"Well, I guess that's good to hear. I just hope she isn't getting too chummy with the younger years. We can't have them thinking the Prefects are their buddies instead of proper guides of house behavior." Ginny raised her eyebrows patronizingly at Hermione. _Oh, for the love of Merlin_.

"I think Kerney and Othello have found that they actually have fewer discipline problems when they cultivate the good faith of the students," Ginny countered. "And besides, aren't Prefects supposed to be _leaders_ of the student body, rather than student versions of Mr. Filch? Good relations lead to trust, respect and openness, which are much more important that perfect attendance and an iron-handed curfew, don't you think? I mean," and Ginny tried not smile as she said this, "I know how _strongly_ you feel about student cooperation and respect. And we'll never see it between the houses if we can't realize it within our own house first, right?" Hermione looked as though she was not the least bit pleased with how Ginny had turned her own argument against her criticism of Kerney.

"Well, of course you're right, Ginny, I just worry that if she keeps up with the sarcastic remarks and things like that," Ginny was barely containing her laughter now, "it will undermine our authority as Prefects."

"Hermione, I'm sure if you said something to her about your concerns," _she might laugh in your face_, "she would keep them in mind in her future dealings with students." _And ignore them completely_. Man, the Kernel was going to just eat this up. And if Hermione had thought Ginny was going to be her go-between with other Prefects—who were, technically, equal in status to the sixth years—she could take her passive-aggressive power trip and go jump in the lake. Hermione huffed at Ginny's side-stepping of the issue.

"Well, I'm not sure how soon I'll be able to get a spare moment for some research—" Ginny could see where Hermione was going with this, and actually had to fake a cough to keep from laughing in the other girl's face.

"Oh, I understand completely, I know you're probably very busy, too," Ginny said sympathetically. The fact that Hermione thought that withholding research on Ginny's Patronus would at all incline her to do what Hermione was asking was absurd and laughable when doing so would far exceed Ginny's expectations for the request she had made. She had only come up with the plan to stall Hermione, but if Hermione wanted to suspend the topic indefinitely, all the better.

When Ginny rejoined Kerney, Andy, and Nadine on the other side of the room, she was surprised to learn that Andy could already do the charm. His Patronus was, oddly enough, a giraffe. Ginny was at a loss as to what the connection or hidden meaning was. Kerney and Nadine laughed heartily at the strange pairing of the handsome, sturdy Andy McGrath and this great big, strange-looking, awkward animal. Then again, they were both very gentle. It was hard to tell.

Ginny glanced over to where Stephen and Nadia were being instructed by Harry. The first few meetings had been terribly amusing, as far as those three were concerned. Stephen had obviously still not gotten over his awe of Harry's Quidditch ability, while Nadia had not been very subtle about her view of Harry as being particularly dishy.

Harry, not one who was used to being touched, let alone by girls, was much less comfortable with Nadia's behavior than, say, Andy, who was well used to the girl looping her arm through his or holding his hand. Luckily for Stevie, Harry quickly discovered that the younger McGrath's star-struck reverence was due to Quidditch, not his identity as the Boy-Who-Lived, and became much more easy and comfortable in his presence.

At the moment, it seemed that while Nadia was at least succeeding in producing the white mist of a weak Patronus, Stephen was faring not at all well, and becoming visibly frustrated. Harry was trying to coax him into doing something, and Nadia was cheerfully trying to improve his spirits. Ginny, who was not practicing anyway, went over to see what was going on.

"Hey Nadia, why don't you go show Andy what you can do? I think he'll be mighty impressed." Nadia brightened at the idea and skipped off to find the other three. Stevie scowled. Then he realized suddenly that the two people in the world he most admired (granted, in different ways) were standing with him. Ginny grinned at how he could not contain his emotions at all.

"What seems to be the problem here?" she asked Harry, glancing back and forth between him and Stevie inquiringly.

"Stephen's having trouble getting the beginning of a Patronus." Stevie nodded his head with a pout.

"Well, maybe your memory isn't happy enough," Ginny offered. Harry nodded, and turned to his pupil.

"That's a thought," he said. "Do you mind if we ask what memory you're using?"

"When I made the Quidditch team," he said happily, in the presence of his two older teammates. Ginny and Harry started speaking at the same time.

"That's what I—" they halted and stared at each other, amused at each other and smiling.

"I was just going to say that I made that mistake, the first few times I tried the charm," Ginny offered. Harry nodded knowingly.

"Yep, me, too. It didn't work." He turned to Stevie. "And seeing as it didn't work for Ginny either, maybe you should pick something else?"

"But I don't know what else I'd choose," Stephen admitted with no small amount of anxiety in his voice. He looked from Ginny to Harry and asked, "What do you use for your memories?" Ginny and Harry both froze, thinking of the extremely personal nature of their memories. But Ginny adored Stevie far too much not to offer him what she knew.

"Well, I think of, now don't laugh," she glanced at Harry a bit nervously, "but I think of when Harry showed up in the Chamber of Secrets. I was dead sure no one would come looking for me down there. No one even knew where it was. But then Harry showed up, came rushing up to find me, and I reckon in my whole life I've never been as happy as I was just then."

She smiled slightly at Stephen, who looked rather startled that she was talking about Harry Potter (_who was standing right there!_) coming to save her and the equally enthralling subject of the Chamber of Secrets. For his part, Harry was studying her curiously.

"I didn't know you could do a Patronus," he said thoughtfully. "I don't remember you being able to do it by the end of last year." And here we go again.

"You're right, I couldn't," she answered, matter-of-factly. "Remember where we went on my birthday?" she asked a bit cryptically, so as not to clue Stevie in on what she was referring to. A light bulb may as well have lit up over Harry's head with the obvious look of realization that fell over his face.

"Yeah, when Remus and I left you guys, we worked on spells and things. The one thing in Defense I've always had trouble with was my Patronus. He asked me about my memory, which," she snuck a look at Stephen, "happened to be the one where I stole the Quidditch Cup right out from Cho Chang's nose." Stevie laughed and beamed at the memory. Harry looked intrigued, both because he had not actually seen the Quidditch final and perhaps because it seemed like he was ruffled at hearing Ginny speak so easily (and not particularly fondly) of Cho.

"Ha!" Stevie laughed. "She was _so_ mad! It was brilliant!" Ginny couldn't help but smile at the boy's characterization of the events. It _had_ been brilliant. She turned to share her delight with Harry, but he was back to scrutinizing her.

"So, what form does your Patronus take?"

"Not telling." Harry's eyes shot up to meet hers.

"What?" he asked, incredulous at her blunt denial.

"What?" Stephen repeated, obviously appalled at the notion that someone would actually be able to do the Charm and not want to talk about it.

"Sorry, boys. Not telling."

"That's completely ridiculous," Harry insisted.

"Oh, and I'm supposed to pretend _you've_ never done anything completely ridiculous in your life, Harry James Potter?" she countered. He stopped, looking quite surprised at her frank (and not inaccurate) sizing up of the situation. "I'm sure there are quite a few things you wouldn't tell me if I asked. And that's all well and good as long as you remember that you don't have a monopoly on the whole secrecy thing, yeah?"

Harry was obviously not used to being spoken to in this manner, and Stevie looked every bit as dumbfounded as his Quidditch idol, shocked that someone, even Ginny Weasley—who was everything he thought an older girl should be—would dare speak to Harry Potter like that. The identical expressions on the boys' faces would have been quite funny if Ginny hadn't been concentrating so hard on keeping the massive butterflies in her stomach from inciting her wandless magic.

"So Harry, I believe you were going to tell Stevie, here, what memory you use for your Patronus," Ginny resumed, as if to drive home the point that she was very much done with the previous topic of conversation. Harry stuttered slightly as he continued to look curiously at her while trying to regain the power of speech.

"Er, yeah, right. Memory." He shook himself slightly and turned his attention back to their third-year pupil. "Right. Actually, I think of my mum and dad." Stevie looked curious at this, and seemed to forget that Harry Potter the Quidditch prodigy was the same Harry Potter as the Boy-Who-Lived. When he failed to react with any sort of recognition at Harry's admission, Ginny prodded the conversation along.

"See, Stevie, Harry thinks of his parents. Maybe you could try that."

"But my mum died when I was a baby," he pleaded. "I can't really remember her." Ginny was grateful to see Harry pick up the slack on this.

"Mine did, too. I can't remember her either, really." At this reminder, Stephen seemed to remember very quickly that both Harrys were one and the same. His face took on a look of horror at having said such a thing in front of someone who had lost not one, but both of his parents.

"Oh, bugger, I can't believe I said that. Oh, Harry," he began desperately, "I'm so sorry. What a little prat. Here I am weeping because my mum died, when you've never known your dad either. Oh, bollocks." Harry smiled sadly, watching the younger boy's self-flagellation.

"Stephen," he said calmly, startling Ginny a bit since she had never heard him speak so quietly without sounding meek or resigned. Stevie reluctantly brought his eyes back up to meet Harry's. "It's okay, mate. What you said, I mean. I've quite accepted the fact that my parents are dead, and I suppose, other than Neville, you probably know better than anyone what that's like. So no harm done, yeah?" Stevie's shoulders visibly relaxed.

"Okay," he replied softly.

"So, do you have any memories of your mum? Or even of your dad? I bet they'll both work," Ginny encouraged.

"Or, you could do like I do, and just imagine what your mum was like. Since I was so little when my parents died, I don't think I have any real memories, so much as I just think about them. Sometimes just talking to me, or to each other. Sometimes they watch me play Quidditch, sometimes they're talking with . . ." he paused a second here, and Ginny mentally inserted the name _Sirius_ into the sentence. "er . . . their friends."

Stevie nodded and closed his eyes, probably trying to conjure up images of his parents in his mind. As he did, a small smile gradually came over his face. Seeing this slightly heart-warming development, Ginny and Harry shared a look, though Ginny's was more proud and grateful, while Harry's was thoughtful and a little surprised.

"Okay, I think I've got it," Stevie said after a few minutes, opening his eyes and jarring Harry and Ginny out of their silent exchange.

"All right, go on then," Harry said by way of invitation. Stevie narrowed his eyes in concentration and commenced the appropriate wand movements, yelling "Expecto Patronum!"

Sure enough, a thick, white mist shot out of the end of his wand. Ginny and Harry clapped and complimented him approvingly.

"Thanks!" he said to them excitedly. "I have to go tell Nadia!" he insisted and rushed off to find his friend. Harry watched Ginny smiling as her eyes followed Stevie around the room.

"He's quite a kid," Harry said, and on top of the way he was scrutinizing her, Ginny got the impression that he was fishing for something.

"Yes, he is. And he's good at Quidditch," Ginny added, turning her attention to Harry as soon as Stephen had found Nadia, his brother, and the others.

"So that's your boyfriend, huh?" he said and Ginny laughed. It was nice to laugh again, and it was particularly nice to laugh with Harry.

"Yeah, but I think he's safe from Ron for a while, at least until after the match against Ravenclaw," Ginny said. Harry smiled and nodded knowingly.

"I was so surprised at tryouts, because he's so young, but then I remembered that your brothers must have been awfully young when they started playing on the team, so I guess it's not so strange. I just wish he had a twin brother, you know? I'd have much less to worry about this season if he did." His gaze strayed over to where the McGraths, the Ryans, and Kerney were alternately chatting and practicing.

"I don't suppose your friend, ah, Andrew, plays, does he?" He seemed a little nervous about asking her this, and Ginny was baffled at why he would ever be nervous about such a simple question.

"No, he doesn't play. He likes it well enough, but I think he'd rather cheer for his brother. Plus," and here Ginny laughed, drawing a confused look from Harry. "I can't imagine he'd be all that comfortable with the extra attention. He's already traumatized enough with girls throwing themselves at him all the time, I think being a Quidditch superstar would put him over the edge." She smirked as she watched Nadia hanging on him and Nadine looking on enviously.

"It's a shame. If he was half as good as Stephen, I'd sleep better at night. At least Sloper isn't as much of a goon as he was last year. And we didn't lose nearly as much ground as I thought we would from Angelina and Alicia graduating." He said the last words with a small, but proud, grin at her. She smiled back.

"Oh, Harry, was that a backhanded compliment?" she joked, pretending to sigh. "Be careful, I might faint from your overwhelming charm." Harry laughed at her sarcasm and she grinned at her achievement in making him do so. Getting Harry to laugh was not exactly an easy task these days.

"So, are you really not going to tell me what form your Patronus takes?" Ginny's smile drained.

"I'm really not," she assured him.

"Come on, I won't tell anyone! I've kept your other secrets, haven't I?" he reminded her.

"Sorry, Harry. The only person who knows is Remus, and he's not going to tell you. Trust me, you really don't want to know what it is." _Unless you've taken a liking to paralyzing embarrassment or you've started to fancy me, neither of which have happened, I'm sure_.

"I don't?" he asked, amused and somewhat unhappy.

"No, you don't. In fact, I think, after me, you are the one who would most want this to stay a secret."

"But how is that possible if I don't even know what it is?"

"It's possible, I promise. Would I lie to you?" she asked jokingly, but Harry's face, as it so commonly did these days, abruptly turned more serious. He looked at her searchingly for a moment.

"No," he replied, still considering her. "I reckon you never would." He said it earnestly, but a bit sadly, as though he knew she was the only one for whom that was true. Ginny shivered as he kept looking at her. Luckily, Andy strolled up to them before she could blush.

"Harry," Andy said as he nodded in greeting, and then turned to Ginny. "Whatever you lot said to Stevie, it really helped, so thanks. He's been moping around ever since my dad taught me how to do it last summer. Dad will be thrilled to know that he can get the beginning, at least. He's been worried about him ever since the Dementors started going haywire. I think he had a bad experience with them back when You-Know-Who was around the first time."

Harry's curiosity was visibly piqued by this, and Ginny could tell he wanted to ask Andy about his father, but held back since they didn't know each other very well.

"What's your dad's name?" Harry asked instead.

"Matt McGrath." There was a pause, and Andy seemed to sense what Ginny and Harry wouldn't let themselves ask. "My mum was Christine O'Connell before she married my dad." Ginny's brain clicked on something.

"Your middle name! That makes sense." Andy nodded in affirmation.

"Yep. Stevie's middle name is after our Uncle Will," he added. "And rightly so, since my dad says Will and his best friend Chad used to get into quite as much trouble as the runts do, and he would know, seeing as he was Head Boy.

"My dad was Head Boy, too," Harry added, looking as amused and interested at the coincidence as Andy did.

"Whoa, really?" Ginny asked, attention still on Andy. "I didn't know that. Wow, no pressure Andy, yeah?"

"Nah, he's cool about it. He's never pushed us to be Prefects or anything. He's dead excited about Stevie playing Quidditch, though. And our Aunt Tracy's been more excited than we've ever seen her. She's always been pretty quiet, but ever since she heard the news, she's been writing us and asking about how the team is and everything." Harry looked a bit confused, so Ginny thought she'd enlighten him.

"His aunt was the girl beater from twenty years ago. She played for Gryffindor!" Harry nodded in understanding, but as Ginny and Andy continued their conversation, Harry suddenly froze as if he'd been blindsided by the realization truck.

He spun quickly and asked Andy, somewhat desperately, "What's your aunt's name?"

"Er, Tracy Merton. Well, she was Tracy McGrath when she was in school." Harry nodded and turned to Ginny.

"Tell Hermione to wrap up the meeting, will you? I need to go check on something and it can't wait." Ginny nodded dumbly, curious as to what Harry was on about. As Harry practically ran from the room, Ginny and Andy shared perplexed looks.

"What the blazes was that all about?" he asked rhetorically. Ginny was in the middle of shrugging her shoulders, when the light bulb switched on in her brain, too. When she gasped in realization, Andy looked at her with concern on his features. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, Merlin, Andy, you know what this means? I can't believe I didn't suss it out before! How could I have been so thick!"

"What? Slow down, Ginny, what are you being thick about?"

"Your Aunt Tracy was one of the Gryffindor beaters twenty years ago!"

"Yeah, and?"

"Well, think about it—Harry's dad was a Chaser for Gryffindor. And he was here about twenty years ago! That means they must have known each other!" Andy's eyebrows flew up in surprise, and he had to run to keep up with Ginny as she tore out of the classroom after Harry, completely forgetting about relaying his message to Hermione.


	8. Blame It on the Rain

**CHAPTER 7**

**Blame it on the Rain**

The mad dash out of the Room of Requirement had Ginny chasing Harry through different halls and secret passages until they (and Andy, who had been running close behind) came rather quickly upon a back entrance to the library. Ginny had never known there was a second entrance to the library, and figured that Harry must have been making great use of the Marauder's Map in the three years since Fred and George had bequeathed it to him.

Andy, who did not tend toward sneaking around the castle after curfew, was baffled by Harry's extensive knowledge of the school. The only "secret" places he had ever been were the kitchens and, now that he had joined the D.A., the Room of Requirement. And even then, he rarely ventured out after hours.

Still catching their breath from the chase, Andy caught up to Ginny as they watched Harry head into the section with school records and yearbooks.

"You know, I'm not actually surprised that Aunt Tracy might have known James Potter," he admitted. Ginny looked at him curiously. _She_ had certainly been surprised. The idea of Harry and Andy being connected in that way was strange, to say the least. The Harry part of her life had always been quite separate from the part in which her friendship with Andy held such a central role. It was somewhat disconcerting to think those two parts might collide.

"Why not?" she asked in frank curiosity.

"Well, to be honest, we don't really know her that well. Not nearly as well as my Uncle Will. I think my dad wasn't on speaking terms with her for a long time, or at least, I don't ever remember seeing her until I was about nine or ten, not long before I started at Hogwarts. And my dad doesn't like to talk about the first war. He's told us loads about my mum, of course, but he and Uncle Will don't like to talk about it."

Ginny thought that there might be more than a few families who wanted to forget that part of their lives. She knew her mum got upset talking about her brothers, Gideon and Fabian, and the first war was a taboo subject at the Burrow in general.

"I wonder why they didn't talk for so long?" Ginny thought out loud.

"Me too," Andy admitted. "It was very strange last Christmas, after my dad heard about the Dementors attacking Harry. When we went home for the holiday, he was adamant that I learn how to do a Patronus. Good thing that my best subject is Defense, because he was starting to go spare when I finally managed it. He never loses control, ever. He's the most easy-going guy you'll ever meet. But when I was having trouble with the charm at first, he was getting really upset, and it was kind of scary."

Andy was obviously still bewildered at his father's behavior and Ginny had that familiar feeling again—that there was a lot that they didn't know about their parents' generation and what happened during the first war. Her thoughts on Andy's family were cut off as they approached the table that Harry had appropriated for his search. As they neared, he looked up at them.

"Oh, hey," he said, apparently not aware that they had come after him. Then Ginny remembered the message he had asked her to relay, and cringed.

"Oh, Harry, I forgot to tell Hermione. I'm sorry. It's just that my brain made the connection right after yours did, and I wanted to see if it was true. I came running after you without thinking."

"It's all right," he responded kindly. "Hermione's a smart girl, she'll take charge when she sees we've gone." Then his attention was distracted as he came upon what he was looking for. His sharp intake of breath enticed Ginny and Andy to peer over his shoulders.

What they saw was a two-page spread devoted to the Gryffindor Quidditch team. According to the caption of the team photo, James Potter and Tracy McGrath were sixth-years. James, the tallest member of the team, was in the center of the photo, holding a Quaffle. And sure enough, standing on one end of the lineup was Andy's aunt, smiling and twirling her Beater's bat. Ginny was surprised that Andy was the first to speak.

"Hey, Harry, go to the page with the student leaders—my dad should be there. If my Aunt Tracy was in sixth year, then it was the same year he was Head Boy." Ginny thought back to the discussion about Prefects at Grimmauld Place the summer before, and recalled something as Harry followed Andy's suggestion.

"Hey, that means we'll see Remus, too, right Harry? Didn't he say he was the Gryffindor Prefect for their class?" Harry looked up at her question, and yet another look of realization came over him. He flipped through the pages faster.

Finally he turned to the page they had been searching for, and the two-page spread for the student leaders showed numerous pictures, both candid and posed, of the Heads and various Prefects. One picture, however, caught all three teenagers' attention immediately.

It was one of the largest pictures on the page, and showed five students—three boys and two girls—in a room full of boxes. A blonde-haired boy who bore a striking resemblance to Andy was levitating a box full of what appeared to be folded pieces of paper, like notes you would pass in class. He was smiling the same kind smile that she had seen grace Andy's face so many times, while next to him—Ginny gasped—was a much younger, much more handsome Remus Lupin, levitating another box full of notes. The third boy, Kevin Creggie, according to the caption, was leaning over a box, examining it.

But the most startling part of the picture was that the two girls looking out at them—a smiling redhead with a list in her hand and a familiar, regal-looking blonde—were identified as Lily Evans and Gertrude Wrightman.

There was no question that Lily Evans was Harry's mum. Ginny had watched Harry's eyes enough to know that an identical pair was gazing out of the photo, only this pair was framed by red hair and feminine features. And even if she hadn't recognized Professor Wrightman—who seemed not to have aged practically at all—she would have known that now-familiar posture anywhere.

The heading of the photo said "Friendship Appreciation Day," which apparently was supposed to explain the numerous boxes full of notes surrounding the five students.

None of them spoke for at least ten minutes, all caught up in their own thoughts about what the discovery of these past connections meant. Ginny thought back to the trip on the Hogwarts Express, when their discussion about Stephen's plans to try out for Beater led to a conversation about Andy's family.

"Andy," she started quietly.

"Hm?" he answered, eyes still examining the "Friendship Appreciation Day" picture. Harry shifted in his seat.

"Didn't you say on the train that your aunt and your mum were the same year in Gryffindor?" This question was enough to draw both boys' attention away from the photo at last. Andy glanced at Harry and then back to Ginny.

"Yeah, I did. If my dad was in seventh year here, then my mum and Aunt Tracy would have been sixth years. That's how my parents met, actually—my mum and my aunt were friends from before they started at Hogwarts, so my mum and dad knew each other since they were little kids." Andy's confirmation seemed to spark the same thought in Harry and Ginny's minds, because they shared a glance that plainly said, _Are you thinking what I'm thinking?_

Using one hand to hold his place, Harry began flipping to the student photos for each House and year. When he arrived at the page for the sixth-year Gryffindors, he froze. Ginny's hand clutched his shoulder as she was overwhelmed by what she saw.

Lined up in the same manner as the Quidditch team, the eight Gryffindors grinned out at them. Harry's shoulder began to shake under Ginny's grip, and she realized that he must be crying. She noticed her own tears a few moments later, as Andy's arm slid around her waist in solidarity.

At the far left of the picture was a beautiful black-haired girl, who could have been one of the Ryan sisters if not for the fact that she lacked the open kindness in her features that radiated from Naomi, Nadine, and Nadia.

Next was Andy's aunt, followed by—it was unmistakable—Andy and Stevie's mum. The name in the caption identified her as Christine O'Connell, but like Andy's dad, the smile had given her away. Just as Andy's friendly, understated grin was an exact replica of Matt McGrath's, Stephen's delighted, unrestrained one was clearly inherited from his mother.

The fourth of the four girls was Lily Evans, alternately laughing and smiling contentedly, and linking arms with Christine and playfully dodging the devastatingly handsome boy on her other side—Sirius Black. They watched as Sirius placed an elbow on her shoulder, which she glanced at before flicking him. He laughed and she smiled as he wrapped his arm all the way around her shoulders.

Ginny surmised that it must have been this that caused Harry's emotions to erupt. Seeing his mother and his godfather, both of whom had been so cruelly stolen from him, standing there, linked together, so obviously close and happy, was too much for him to bear.

Next to the extraordinarily handsome Sirius was, naturally, the equally attractive James Potter, who kept sneaking glances around his best friend, presumably at Lily. Next to James Potter was the younger, more handsome, but still kind-looking version of Remus. Peter Pettigrew rounded out the group of eight, but Ginny didn't give him a second thought. This was a happy discovery, the connection between Harry and Andy's parents, and the role Pettigrew had played in unraveling it all had no place in their thoughts tonight.

As they continued to silently study the photos of the Gryffindor sixth years, Ginny unknowingly began to rub Harry's back with the hand that earlier had been gripping his shoulder in surprise. When she noticed what she was doing, she was reminded again of the train ride on the Hogwarts Express, this time of Nadine's unconscious ministrations to the back of Andy's neck.

But rather than stop herself abruptly as Nadine had done, Ginny found that Harry had begun to calm down and even she had been soothed by the rhythm of her hand moving smoothly across his upper back and shoulders.

"They look so happy," she said finally, bringing her right had back to rest on Harry's shoulder. Andy squeezed her waist in recognition.

"I never realized Sirius and my mum were so close," Harry practically whispered. He cleared his throat. Ginny moved out of Andy's half-embrace and settled both hands on Harry's shoulders as she leaned her head down to his level.

"He told me once that your mum was his reminder, when things got hard, that he didn't need his horrible family, or their arcane traditions, their money, or that nasty old house," Ginny began. "He told me she was amazing."

"Andrew, you're doing it wrong."

"Shut up, Nadine."

"Andrew, you're going to explode that cauldron all over the classroom!"

"Maybe if you let me alone for one damn minute, I wouldn't!"

"Well, maybe I would, if you'd quit bollixing up the assignment!"

"What do you bloody care? You're not even my partner!"

"Yes, but I don't want Kerney to fail just because you're incompetent at Potions!"

"Go take a walk, Nadine."

"Go take one yourself, you idiot."

"Nice comeback, Potions Nazi."

"Insufferable git."

"Bossy wench."

"Conceited prat."

"Domineering—"

They were cut off by Ginny and Kerney's simultaneous hexes.

"—tweet tweet," Andy finished, looking perplexed at how the rest of his insult came out. Nadine smirked and opened her mouth to shoot one back at him, pleased with getting the last word.

"Baaaaaa." Nadine's hand flew to cover her mouth in shock. Ginny and Kerney laughed. Kerney leaned over Andy to face her co-conspirator.

"Bravo on the chirping," she said.

"Not as good as Bo Peep over there," Ginny countered. They laughed again at Andy and Nadine's confusion at the Muggle reference.

Ginny and Kerney returned to their respective Potions assignments, followed soon after by Andy and Nadine, who realized that they would not be getting their human voices back before the lesson was over.

Ginny groaned as yet another boy slouched away from her in the Transfiguration hallway. She hurried the other way to catch up with her three friends, who had been waiting for her down the hall. Kerney was smirking, but it was Andy who spoke.

"Barry Summerby or Chase Anastasio?" he asked, forcing her to choose between the two most recent Hogsmeade invitations. The number of boys to ask Ginny on a date for the trip on Saturday had reached epic proportions and—to the delight of her friends—had also provided ample opportunities for the question game.

"Oh . . . Chase, I suppose," Ginny replied quickly and with little enthusiasm. "Summerby's a bit odd." Andy smiled and nodded in agreement.

The fact that both Hufflepuffs played for their House team was representative of the types of blokes who had been asking her. She'd nearly gone through the entire Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw sides, including the completely surreal experience of being asked on a date by Zacharias Smith, who was only slightly less belligerent in doing that than he was during D.A. meetings.

Amusingly enough, Ron was still oblivious to the fact that his sister had become the Hogsmeade date of choice this term. Then again, the fact that Hermione hadn't even said anything to her about it meant that something else—something big—must be occupying their attention.

Even if the boys were clueless about the goings-on around the school, Hermione had long been in the habit of always keeping herself in the loop. It probably helped to share a dorm with Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown, both of whom would undoubtedly earn a N.E.W.T. in Hogwarts Gossip if such a class existed.

"So where is Mr. Moran taking you tomorrow?" Nadine asked, mouth quirking in her trademark almost-smile. Andy and Kerney grinned shamelessly. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"I don't know. We're meeting by the Fat Lady after breakfast."

"Oh, Ginny," Kerney simpered mockingly, "maybe he'll take you to Madam Puddifoot's! Wouldn't that be dreamy!" By now they were all laughing heartily. They all recalled quite vividly the first time Michael Corner had tried to take Ginny there, a horrific experience only made more hilarious by the fact that Harry and Cho had fallen out there on the very next trip to Hogsmeade.

"Ugh," Ginny said in disgust. "I'd almost rather have detention with Snape!" And frankly, that wasn't far from the truth.

Ginny had just completed her first week of Occlumency lessons, and had fared quite a bit better than Harry did the year before.

Harry had warned her about how invasive her first Occlumency sessions would feel, though she doubted they would compare to the ordeals she had been forced to endure in the past.

But it _was_ Snape, and he was bitter and vindictive enough to be hard on her for the simple reason that he had been wrong to doubt her need for Occlumency training, and they both knew it. Add to that the fact that Harry was involved (albeit indirectly) and there was no telling how he would go about messing around in her mind.

Luckily, it seemed that Harry was determined to thwart any cruel intentions Snape's part. He explained how it would feel, and told her what he'd been instructed to do (presumably by his new tutor, Dumbledore) to facilitate closing his mind.

Essentially, the method he was taught—to her horror—was to focus his thoughts (and now her thoughts) on—what else?—his (her) Patronus. Of course. So. The price of a sound mind was a relentless reminder of her utter humiliation. So be it.

At any rate, the point was to concentrate on the form of her Patronus (which, helpfully enough, was a protective and comforting figure in and of itself) as much as possible so that the image of it, even the feeling of it, was indelibly ingrained and easily called forth in her mind. Then, when a Legilimens attempted to invade her thoughts, hopefully she would be able to call up the image of it in her mind and show that to the intruder, concealing her actual, private thoughts underneath.

Like misdirection. Ginny thought grimly that she surely ought to be able to handle a little misdirection—after all, hadn't she been doing just that ever since she came to Hogwarts?

Only this time, it wasn't hiding her real personality behind a false one, or her real feelings behind false actions, it would be concealing her true thoughts behind fakes. And she wouldn't have her own head, her own mind as a safe harbor, oh no. She would be fighting this battle with herself as she kept her own memories and feelings in line and she would be battling a foreign individual's attempts to rip them apart.

So Harry had warned her . . . and boy was she glad that he did.

Snape had been as grumpy and aggressive as she had expected, and attacked her mind without the slightest warning, let alone guidance or instruction. So imagine Snape's surprise when, after only a minute or two, Ginny's mind appeared blank to the professor, as the image of a ghostly white Harry Potter holding a wand and sword slid smoothly into place, effectively obscuring everything else.

It was a bit anticlimactic, as far as Ginny was concerned. She had imagined that blocking Legilimency meant the violent ousting of the intruding mind, but it turned out to be much more subtle than that. She could still feel him in her mind, but instead of the blunt strike he had thrown initially, his poking and prodding became frustrated and haphazard—and, most importantly, it began to fade.

Harry had told her that, in time, she would learn to expel him completely (and forcefully), but for now it was quite enough that Snape had gotten no further into her memories than being teased by an eight-year old Ron and laughing with the Hogwarts-bound twins. For the moment, her most terrible secrets and embarrassing moments were well hidden.

All the same, she now had a healthy appreciation for Harry's frustration the previous year, and was relieved that he had been kind enough to help her prepare for it. The preparation and protection did not, however, come without a cost.

When Snape eventually sent her to bed, she was exhausted and surprised that so much mental exertion could make her so physically tired as well. But she did as Snape had instructed and made sure to clear her mind before going to sleep each night—a task that would become much more difficult as Hogsmeade weekend approached.

She tried to dwell on Quidditch, O.W.L.'s, and Potions revision as much as she could, but the seemingly endless stream of blokes asking her for a date—and her friends' unconcealed delight in repeatedly bringing it up—made it very difficult indeed.

She knew it was getting bad when one day, to Ginny's complete surprise, Devon mentioned it during double Potions.

"Honestly, Ginny. Duncan Moran?" the usually reserved Slytherin bluntly inquired. Devon looked tempted to smirk at Ginny's gaping expression.

"Er . . . what about him?" she asked in return, recovering somewhat.

"You could do quite a bit better than him, you know." Ginny silently wondered how, choosing to ignore the part of her brain that immediately volunteered Harry's name. "You're miles out of his league," her friend finished. Ginny almost laughed in disbelief.

She turned back to the work in front of her, the thought breezing through the back of her mind that it was time to mince the antelope antler shavings for the sobering draught they were brewing. Devon began measuring the required amount of Tequila for the mixture.

"All right, then," Ginny began, ostensibly to humor her partner. "How am I so far out of his league? He's gorgeous, he's a seventh year, and every girl in the school but you would die to go out with him."

Ginny certainly didn't fancy Duncan, but uncomfortable as she was with the compliments Devon was giving her, she wanted badly to know what it was about her date to Hogsmeade that had inspired such a reserved and severe girl to speak up—and about boys, no less.

"Not every other girl in the school," Devon corrected.

"Oh, yeah?" Ginny asked skeptically. "Who else, then?"

"You," Devon replied, with a knowing expression that reminded Ginny far too much of the one Kerney usually wore. Well, Ginny couldn't deny that Devon had her on that one.

"So?" she replied, trying to infuse her response with as much casualness as she could. "It's just a date to Hogsmeade." If Devon heard Ginny's question, she gave no indication.

"While he may be less undeserving than much of your house (and all of Hufflepuff), you could do far better."

"Oh, yeah?" Ginny tried again sarcastically. "Who, then?"

"Your friend Andrew, for one. Quentin. Roman Keselica. Theodore Nott. Even Harry Potter would be a more deserving match, though he's no pureblood." Ginny couldn't help but laugh as Devon added, "And I understand that Baron Ramsey thinks very highly of you." Ginny was particularly incredulous at this last suggestion, but her shock began to dissipate as she comprehended that her friend was dead serious.

"So, you've set it out that I've got to marry one of those blokes, then?" Apparently Devon didn't see it as a problem that none of them had been one of the many to ask her to Hogsmeade.

"Well, obviously Andrew isn't an option," Devon began to explain, "seeing as he's only ever going to love Nadine Ryan. And you would never marry Roman (though I wouldn't be surprised if he tried) because his sister would drive you completely insane. Or Theo, since his father is a Death Eater. If Quentin wasn't utterly and entirely asexual, I'd say he would be an excellent option." Merlin, she was actually serious about this.

"You are the most passionate girl I have ever seen," Devon continued. "The only two blokes in the school—maybe in all of Britain—who could match and understand that passion (and who are not your brothers) are Baron Ramsey and Harry Potter."

No, Harry Potter was most definitely _not_ her brother.

Despite the fact that she had long been accustomed to Devon's rather blunt manner of expressing herself, Ginny was startled—and not a little uncomfortable—at her friend's acknowledgement of having so closely and thoughtfully scrutinized her.

She had always felt that Devon, like Kerney, knew infinitely more about things than she let on. Having that hunch was one thing; confirmation of it was a whole different matter. More than four years of desperately wanting and trying to blend in and be normal—a desire born of her family's notoriety and punctuated by her experience with Tom Riddle's diary—made Devon's close attention and her new apparent popularity extremely discomforting.

And yet there was a small part of her that, like Ron, had always wanted to stand out and be recognized, distinguished from the veritable sea of red hair known as the Weasleys. But while Ron undoubtedly wanted to out-shine his brothers and be seen as Harry's equal rather than merely his loyal sidekick, Ginny just wanted to be seen by Harry at all.

Actually, when she thought about it for a moment (and got past the pure absurdity of talking about marriage), coming from Devon Pearce, a wealthy, well-bred Slytherin, the suggestion that only two blokes in the world were good enough for her—the Slytherin Head Boy and the savior of the wizarding world, no less—was perhaps the highest compliment she could have received. Upon this realization, Ginny turned to her inscrutable Potions partner, who was now watching her thoughtfully.

"Thank you," she said, fully appreciating Devon's intent. "That's incredibly kind of you." Devon nearly smiled at the earnest, understanding look on Ginny's face. Almost.

"You know perfectly well, I don't say things that I don't mean," Devon reminded her. Now Ginny smiled openly.

"Of course, I do. That's why you don't talk half as much as anyone else in the school." At this Devon coughed, but Ginny was sure it was only to avoid the appearance of laughing. And with that, their discussion came to an end, and the two girls returned their full attention to their assignment.

Thought of dating—even kissing—Baron Ramsey threatened to send Ginny into bursts of laughter whenever it occurred to her.

Not that he was unattractive. On the contrary, he was extremely handsome; and Ginny had recently decided that, with his rich, black hair, wonderfully Quidditch-sculpted shoulders, and aristocratic air, he must be exactly what Sirius would have been like had he not spurned and rejected the ways of his family.

Indeed, Ginny was also somewhat inclined to believe that his sister Gretchen was what Bellatrix Lestrange might have been if she had not turned to the Dark Arts and plunged herself into madness.

At any rate, Ginny had to admit she was intrigued by the idea of dating the Head Boy. Not that she thought he would ever consider it in a million years.

_Baron Ramsey thinks very highly of you_, was what Devon had said. Ginny might have been sorely tempted to read something into that statement if she didn't already know that Devon Pearce was the least misleading person in the world (other than Baron himself, of course).

Then again, the traditional pureblood families (usually Slytherins) had been known to arrange marriages on less amiable terms, so the fact that a bloke thought "very highly" of a powerful or politically favorable young woman could be more than enough indication that he would be inclined to marry her.

Of course, entertaining the far-fetched notion of being the Head Boy's girlfriend did not mean her love for Harry had diminished at all (indeed, following her latest dream, it had increased ten-fold). But seeing as she had no chance with Harry Potter, what was the harm in thinking about Baron?

It wasn't as if she was any more likely to get a date with a boy of _his_ stature than with Mr. Savior himself.

Other than a short cautionary conversation after one of their Potions study sessions, Ginny and Harry had not spoken about her dream or its aftermath. Harry hadn't even mentioned it then, but simply told her what she could expect from the lesson. And she got the impression that, even if he didn't say directly, his training with Dumbledore was going much better than it ever had with Snape.

The fact that Harry had not brought up the events of that night did not startle her. What _did _startle her was the way Harry had begun to act around Ron.

In the past, Ron could nearly always get a chuckle, a snort of almost-laughter, or a smirk out of his best mate. But ever since she and Harry had gone down to lunch the day after her dream (not breakfast, since Snape's dreamless sleep potion worked brilliantly), Harry had been more reserved, more stiff than usual, particularly around Ron.

When he thought no one was looking, Harry sent stern looks toward his best friend.

A glance or two toward Ginny every now and then gave her the idea that maybe he was angry with Ron for not being in his bed that night. But with this thought she arrived at an uncomfortable problem.

Was he hacked off at Ron because he'd stranded Harry to deal with his hysterical and unstable little sister? Or—and Ginny tried not to let herself believe it—could it be possible that he was upset on her behalf?

She had been crushed when she found her brother's bed empty that night. On the heels of such a horrible dream and with the knowledge of the terror that would soon follow it, Ginny's heart and soul had broken at the sight of empty sheets. She had barely been aware that Harry was there once the pain started, though she was now quite sure that if he hadn't been, she would have lost the battle with darkness.

It should have been Ron, but she couldn't say she was particularly sorry that it had been Harry instead. It would have been much more difficult to convince Ron to go with her to see Professor Snape than it was to convince Harry, and she didn't think for a moment that Ron would have handled her distress anywhere near as well as Harry had.

Harry knew about the nightmares, knew about nocturnal horrors like hers; he knew about guilt and the feeling of being tainted, and of feeling completely isolated from his peers.

So, even though she wanted to be angry at her brother, wanted to beating the living shit out of him for abandoning her—_again_—when she needed him the most, she couldn't deny that the situation had ended better than she would have hoped if he _had_ been there.

A year earlier she would have sought refuge with Fred and George, but they were gone now. The nice moment in the kitchens when Ron had held her had given her hope that he was telling her the truth the summer after her first year when he said he would always be there to protect her.

But it wasn't a year earlier, it was a year later, and Ron had broken his promise.

For her part, Hermione noticed Harry's newest bout of the stiff, silent treatment, but it was unclear whether a.) she was able to suss out the motivation for it, or b.) if Ron even noticed he was being given the cold shoulder.

Ginny didn't see Harry hardly at all outside of the organized activities they had together (meals in the Great Hall, Quidditch, D.A. meetings, and Potions revision), but during those times she did notice that Harry was acting more independently. Being so hacked off at Ron seemed to have shifted something in him so that he now began to eat meals with different people at nearly every sitting. Breakfast with Seamus, Neville, and Dean. Lunch with Ginny, Neville, and Luna. Dinner with Quidditch teammates.

And though the variation in his company was limited to his relatively close circle of friends, it was a significant departure from the boy who never went anywhere or did anything without his two best mates.

Due to their extremely busy schedules, it was with considerable surprise that Ginny found herself walking with Harry to the Room of Requirement the Friday before Hogsmeade, having been intercepted by him on her way out of Astronomy and back to the Tower. He hadn't said much other than a quiet "hello," and declaring the need to show her something.

Ginny stood quietly watching him as he walked back and forth three times outside the secret entrance to the room. After his third pass, the familiar door materialized, and he held it open for her. The room was plain, smaller than they were used to seeing at D.A. meetings, and contained only a table and two comfortable-looking chairs. On the table were two large mugs of butterbeer and a pile of pumpkin pasties.

"Hungry, are you?" she asked him, smiling. He looked at her and then at the table in some surprise.

"Actually, yeah," he replied, slightly amused, and sizing up the room. "I guess it really can read your thoughts, huh?" They sat down and took long slow drinks from their mugs. Opening a pasty, Ginny eyed the parchment that Harry had brought with him.

"So what did you want to show me?" she asked with honest curiosity. Harry grabbed a pasty for himself.

"I got a note from Remus," he began, ripping it open and taking a bite. When he swallowed, he continued. "McGonagall gave it to me just now after Transfiguration. It's addressed to you too, but she saw me first." He handed the letter over and she read it as she chewed another pumpkin-y bite.

_Harry and Ginny,_

_I hope school and Quidditch are going well. Professor Snape told me (and _

_Professor Dumbledore) about what happened the other night, and we are _

_all agreed that what Severus told you was correct. Ginny, you were very _

_smart to ask him for Occlumency lessons as soon as you got to school, and _

_I hope they are progressing now that you've actually started them (and that_

_you are both sleeping better since Professor Snape gave you the sleeping _

_draught). I must admit that he seemed a little surprised that the two of you _

_sought him out rather than the headmaster, but I figured the both of you still _

_have issues to work out with Professor Dumbledore. Trust is a particularly_

_difficult thing to recover completely, and you two have more reason to doubt_

_others than the average person. I understand that your first Hogsmeade _

_trip of the year is coming up. Enjoy yourselves. And good luck in your _

_match next week. Talk to you soon._

_Remus_

Ginny swallowed the last bit of her pasty and looked up at Harry, who was watching her over the rim of his mug as he drank.

"So Dumbledore knows," he began.

"Well, it saves us a trip to his office, which, frankly, I was not looking forward to," she added. Harry nodded in whole-hearted agreement.

"Yeah, I'm not trying to go up there anymore than I have to, and with these private lessons we've been having, I already have to deal with him four times a week." He sighed, but Ginny couldn't tell if it was due to sadness, bitterness, or frustration. "At least Remus is usually there. Not when it's full moon, of course, but usually."

"What do you do in there?" she asked timidly. The fact that he had volunteered the subject at all was surprising, but she didn't want to push too hard in case he closed himself off. She took another snack from the center of the table.

"Well, at first all we did was practice Occlumency. But when I started to get better at it, we started doing it only two of the times, and the other two we spend either learning curses or fencing." Ginny's eyebrows went up at the last part.

"Fencing?" she asked.

"Well, not fencing, I suppose, but how to handle a sword. Not those wimpy ones, I mean, like in the Olympics . . ."

"Olympics?"

"Muggle thing. Sorry. Anyway, what I'm doing is like sword-fighting in battle, not for sport." Ginny was a bit perplexed at this.

"Does Dumbledore reckon you'll defeat Voldemort with a sword?" she asked somewhat incredulously. Harry considered her for a moment.

"Well, I killed the basilisk with a sword, didn't I?" he began. "And, I don't know, I guess he thinks it would be good for me to have a back-up, seeing as our wands don't work against each other and all." He eyed her reaction.

"Your wands don't work against each other?" she asked, shocked. Her brow furrowed as a thought came to her. Harry looked like he was waiting for her to cotton on. "Wait a minute, your wand is the brother to Voldemort's?" Her eyes were wide, and then she had another thought. Harry was looking slightly amused at how she was working this out in front of him and out loud. "Well, I suppose that's not an Earth-shattering surprise, is it? I mean it wouldn't be the first time you've got some wacky connection to that git, would it?" Harry smirked and his eyes shone with something akin to approval. "What's the core then?"

"Phoenix feather."

"And are there any other brother wands out there? Something crazy, like maybe Dumbledore has it or something?"

"Nah, just me and him."

"How do you know?" Harry smiled as he answered her.

"Because the feathers are from Fawkes," Ginny gasped in happy surprise, "and he's only ever given two feathers."

"That's incredible!" Ginny remarked. Harry seemed very amused at her reaction, and slightly as thought he couldn't believe his good fortune. "Do you mind if I ask how you know all this about his wand?" she asked more quietly. Harry nodded as if to reassure her that he was not upset by the request, though his countenance did turn more serious.

"Well, for starters, Mr. Ollivander told me when I first bought my wand," he began, as Ginny's mouth widened. And he's kept it a secret all these years, she mused. "But I didn't know it was Fawkes' feather until fourth year—" Ginny's expression darkened.

"The Third Task," she finished for him. He nodded.

"I cast an disarming jinx at the same time he cast the killing curse, and the spells connected. It's called priori incantatem—"

"—the reverse spell effect—"

"Right. See, two brother wands won't duel each other. When you force them to anyway, they connect and there's this whole big light show and you get lifted off the ground. It's pretty surreal. And then you've got to hold on for dear life so that the connection moves to the other bloke's wand, and when it touches the end of his wand, all the past spells in reverse order come spilling out the end."

Ginny's brain was in chaos, trying to imagine this in her mind, but encumbered by the thought of Harry having discovered all this, all alone, facing Voldemort and the immediate prospect of death.

"So I'm guessing that you got the connection to hit his wand instead of yours?" He nodded.

"Yeah, so then these—Dumbledore called them echoes—come squeezing out of that same end of the wand. So out came Cedric, and this old Muggle bloke who used to be the Riddles' gardener, and Bertha Jorkins—" Here Ginny looked up.

"And your parents."

"Yeah," he confirmed with an edge of exhaustion in his voice. He hadn't lied when he'd told Stevie that he was quite used to the idea of his parents being dead. But the fact that they had been brutally murdered by the nutcase who had tried five times to kill him seemed to eat at him still.

"Oh, Harry," she began, quietly. She could see how tired he was. Not in a lack-of-sleep kind of way—luckily Snape had seen to that. No, instead it seemed more that his heart was tired. Maybe his soul. He had gone through so much, lost so much in his short life, that it must take a great amount of effort to not get dragged down by it. And the guilt complex didn't help either. But then she snapped herself out of her sympathy. Harry didn't need her bloody sympathy. He got it from everyone else in the whole bloody world, and he sure wouldn't miss it from her.

No, what he needed so desperately was her empathy. She was the closest to having any Earthly idea of what he was going through, and he needed her to remember that. She looked back up at him earnestly.

"So you've been training to fight with a sword because your wand won't work against him. Which, actually might work out to your advantage since—well, no offense, but he's probably a way better dueler than you and he knows loads more spells and things. But don't you see?" she asked him a little excitedly, as his face grew confused. "That was his huge advantage over you—other than his complete disregard for human life, I guess—the fact that he's a much more powerful wizard makes it like you're David and Goliath"

"David and Goliath? When have you ever read the Bible?"

"Come on, Harry, David was a wizard," she replied, as if to indicate that the story would have been absurd otherwise. "Anyway, his big advantage, all his power is only good if he's got his wand. So, now you're learning how to use a sword. Fair enough," she concluded, as if finally comfortable with the idea. "And now all we have to do if find a way for you to kill him without a wand."

"Right." Ginny looked at him anxiously.

"I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell me what the prophecy says," she half-asked. It was the first time the subject of the prophecy had been brought up since he had mentioned it in passing the night they had gone to see Snape after her dream.

At first he looked at her, startled, almost like a caged animal. But then he seemed to remember having told her about it. And then he cocked his head to the side (in the manner that Herpo had a habit of doing) and looked at her with an expression of . . . something. It was as if he was completely re-evaluating his judgment of her. Like he was having to size her up all over again. Finally he spoke.

"You know, I hadn't even realized that I told you about it," he admitted, still looking at her thoughtfully. "But now I remember. Right outside Snape's office, yeah?" She nodded. "Blimey. Well, basically, it said that a child would be born at the end of July in 1980, to parents who had already defied Voldemort three times, which my parents had; that Voldemort would mark the child as his equal." He pointed to his scar, a motion that looked very strange coming from a boy who avoided drawing attention to it as much as humanly possible.

"It says I have a power that he doesn't know about, and that I'm the only one who can destroy him." Ginny nodded, already having heard this part. He paused, causing her eyes to move automatically back to his. "And it says that neither of us can live while the other survives."

He appeared to be waiting for her to explode or cry or get extremely upset, but she didn't. His braced anticipation of her emotional outburst eventually receded into curiosity as she sat there, lost in her own thoughts. Finally she came out of her reverie and was nearly smiling. She had the same look in her eyes that she'd had that day in the library when she told him that anything was possible if you had enough nerve. _And lucky for them, they were Gryffindors, so they had nerve, and in spades._

"Well, that's good news, isn't it?" He made no attempt to disguise his shock at her comment. "I mean, once you get past the fact that he's the cruelest and most terrible wizard in the history of the world, and that he's already tried to kill you five times." He looked slightly amused at her back-peddling.

"But we already knew that, even without the prophecy, didn't we?" she continued. "What I'm saying is, all the new information we get from the prophecy is good news. We already knew he was obsessed with trying to kill you. Now we know why. Because you're the only who can stop him. And that's the best part—now we know for certain that you _can_."

His face was the epitome of surprise and confusion for a few moments, but then his face changed. He looked so heart-breakingly thankful, so grateful for what she had said, that she thought he might climb over the table and kiss her. Ginny tried not to think about how much she really wished he would. She settled for another pumpkin pasty.

It had rained every day for three weeks. And not just drizzle or mist, but pound-into-the-ground, cats-and-dogs rain. Quidditch was becoming absurd in this weather. The Saturday of the trip to Hogsmeade dawned, and all the students' hopes for a nice day were dashed, as rolls of thunder and flashes of lightning woke them up for breakfast.

Ginny wasn't quite sure how she felt about this date. Duncan was a good enough bloke, and they were friends, and he was perhaps the best looking boy in the school—in a three-way tie with Andy McGrath and Baron Ramsey—but she just couldn't get excited about spending the day with him. Frankly, she would rather spend the day sleeping or people-watching with Kerney, Andy, and Luna. Or talking about Quidditch with Roman and Jamie. Or any number of things, really.

With one last miserable glance at her friends in the common room, Ginny went out through the portrait hole to find Duncan waiting for her. She had to admit that he did have a wonderful smile, and was glad that it had the effect of putting her at ease.

They walked down to the village, under a large umbrella that Duncan had brought, and chatted about O.W.L.'s and N.E.W.T.'s. They had just broached the subject of Quidditch when they reached Hogsmeade. Halting their conversation for lengthy stops in Honeydukes and Quality Quidditch Supplies, they didn't pick their topic up again until they headed to the Three Broomsticks for lunch and some butterbeer.

The Three Broomsticks was more crowded than usual, due to the rain, but Duncan—and Ginny, though she had no idea—had the kind of sway among the students that could almost instantly clear a small booth out for them to sit down. When Duncan asked her what she wanted to drink, Ginny volunteered to get their order from the bar. After Duncan indicated he wanted the usual—butterbeer—Ginny made her way over to Madam Rosmerta at the bar.

"Ginny!" the middle-aged—but handsome—proprietor greeted her. Ginny smiled.

"Hello, Madam Rosmerta," she replied cheerfully. The famous Rosmerta had a soft spot for Fred and George that extended down the Weasley line to Ginny, perhaps more so because the barmaid had known all of her brothers and knew that she was the only girl of seven. Madam Rosmerta glanced in the direction from which Ginny had come.

"Doing well for yourself, missy," she commented with a smirk, recognizing that Ginny was on a date with Duncan Moran. Ginny's eyes widened and she blushed, making Rosmerta chuckle as she made up two butterbeers without being asked.

"Er . . . actually, I'm not really sure why I said I'd come," Ginny said in a lowered voice, glancing nervously at the only adult female friend she had other than Tonks. Setting the two mugs of butterbeer on the counter, Rosmerta smiled somewhat conspiratorially. She leaned in to whisper, and Ginny followed suit.

"He's a charming enough bloke," she began, followed by a subtle but meaningful glance toward the door. "But honey, you could do better." Ginny would have been shocked at the fact that Rosmerta's estimation had been identical to Devon's, but instead she was overcome with a nervous blush—when her eyes had followed Rosmerta's meaningful glance, they had landed on the solitary figure of Harry Potter entering the pub.

"Er, right. Well, ah, we'll be having lunch as well drinks. Thanks, Madam Rosmerta." And without meeting the bartender's eyes, she collected the butterbeers and walked quickly back to the table she shared with Duncan. She plastered a fake smile on her face and tried not to think about what Madam Rosmerta had said.

_But really_, she thought. How in the world was she supposed to continue on a date with this boy, after two people had told her that she could do better? She felt like an idiot for saying yes in the first place, but more than that she was annoyed that this would probably end up wasting her entire day. Though she tried to fight the inclination to see where Harry was, she couldn't help herself. When she did look up to find him, she saw that he had been stopped in the middle of the pub by Stephen and Nadia, who were enjoying the excitement of their first-ever trip to Hogsmeade.

Stevie's eyes caught Ginny's and he waved at her happily, causing Harry and Nadia to turn their attention toward her as well. Nadia beamed and waved, and relief seemed to wash over Harry's countenance. Ginny smiled and waved back, and then returned her attention to her date.

"So, how's my sister working out?" he asked, to restart their conversation where they had left off. Ginny smiled—genuinely, this time. She was very fond of Betsy Moran.

"She's doing very well. She just needs experience, is all. It's kind of hard to gauge her progress right now with this ridiculous weather," Ginny replied, with a nod toward the window. They had reached the subject of next week's match against Ravenclaw, when a shadow fell across the edge of the table. Ginny glanced up to see who it was, and nearly spit out a mouth full of butterbeer when she saw that it was Harry.

"Hey, Ginny, Duncan," he greeted them. He still had that relieved look on his face as he sat down in the booth next to Ginny, who, embarrassingly, had suddenly grown quite warm. She croaked a "hello" and promptly drained her butterbeer.

"How's it going, mate?" Duncan asked cheerfully. "Think these storms will break before the match next week?"

As Harry and Duncan launched into a discussion about Quidditch and Gryffindor's chances against Ravenclaw, Ginny was mentally giving herself the what-for.

Why was he making her so nervous? What the hell was going on? Was it because she was already discombobulated about being on a date with a boy she didn't fancy? Was it Rosmerta's (and Devon's) comments? It wasn't like she had been in denial about her feelings for Harry—she'd owned up to them (to herself, if not to anyone else) a long time ago.

So why was she so self-conscious all of a sudden?

Her thoughts were interrupted by Madam Rosmerta coming to take their order for lunch. Duncan ordered Yorkshire pudding.

"I'll have fish and chips, please," Ginny added.

"Same here," Harry chimed in. He eyed Ginny's empty butterbeer. "And two more butterbeers, please." As Madam Rosmerta smiled and left to fill their orders, Duncan glanced at Ginny suspiciously and then looked at Harry with confusion.

"Harry, mate, I know you're the Boy-Who-Lived, and all, but even you can't just run over a bloke's date like this," he said, sort of joking—but sort of not. Harry and Ginny both froze and immediately gaped at Duncan. Their parallel actions continued as deep red blushes creeped up both of their countenances.

"Ah . . . date?" He chanced a glance at Ginny, whose eyes were still wide. She bit her lip in discomfort. Harry gulped and turned back to the older boy. "You're on a date?"

"I asked Ginny to come with me to Hogsmeade, and she said yes. We have been spending the day together to the exclusion of all our other friends," Duncan explained patronizingly. Ginny's brow furrowed at his condescension—it didn't take much to know that Harry was inept when it came to relationships, and she didn't appreciate Duncan making him feel worse about it. It's not like it was his fault he wasn't a normal kid. "That's usually called a 'date'," Duncan concluded. Harry was reddening more by the second.

"Oh . . . er . . . I didn't, um, know that Ginny had a date today." He turned to her, but didn't look her in the eye. "I couldn't find Ron or Hermione anywhere. I don't know where they've run off to. I've been looking for them all morning, but they're nowhere to be found." Ginny was feeling too much embarrassment on Harry's behalf to think anything of the fact that her brother had disappeared again. "I'll just go then." He glanced at Duncan one last time. "Sorry for interrupting your lunch." And with that he started toward the door.

Ginny shot Duncan a look that would have stopped a charging rhino in its tracks, and went after him.

"Harry!" she shouted across the bar. He hesitated mid-step, but kept walking. "_Harry!_" she shouted, more insistently this time. He stopped a few feet from the door, but didn't turn around. Ginny walked around to face him, though he refused to look at her.

"Harry, I'm so sorry. I can't believe the git actually said that." Harry shrugged noncommittally, in a way that made Ginny believe he was just trying to get through the conversation as quickly as possible and get the hell out of there. She leaned in and whispered in his ear.

"I'm actually really glad you showed up," she added, and to this he froze again and chanced a look at her. She smiled at her progress. "Because I was having sort of a miserable time." Harry cracked a smile and turned his head to glance in the direction of their table, where Duncan was watching something out the window. He looked back at her earnestly.

"I really am sorry, Ginny. I honestly didn't know," he explained again. Ginny's countenance softened, and she remembered what he'd said about Ron disappearing.

"And you can't find Ron?" Harry shrugged and shook his head, shifting finally from embarrassment to perplexity.

"Yeah, it's really odd. I can't find either of them, and nobody has seen them anywhere."

"Well, it can't be a Prefect thing, because Kerney and Othello came down with the other fifth years." Ginny glanced at Harry, remembering that she had observed some distance between Harry and his two best friends recently, but decided that now was not the best time to ask about it. "Maybe Hermione dragged him off to the library, and she was smart enough to know that dragging one of you would be loads easier than trying to force both of you," she added to lighten the mood. Harry seemed to sense that she was trying to give him an out, and he took it.

"Well, I'll let you get back to your . . . er . . . lunch. I'll see you later, Ginny." He gave her a small smile. She smiled fully back.

"I'll see you in the common room, yeah?" He nodded and turned to intercept his order from Madam Rosmerta at the bar. Ginny sighed and made her way back to her not-so-illustrious date. If he thought he was going to get even a snog after that display, he had another thing coming.

For 27 days before Gryffindor's first Quidditch match of the year, it rained. And stormed. And did anything other than be sunny and pleasant. On the 28th day, however, mother nature seemed to be inclined to compensate for it all in one day. By the time Ginny went down to breakfast at 9:30, it was already 77 degrees outside. By 10:00 it was 85. And it kept climbing. There was not a cloud in the sky.

Filled to the brim with students breakfasting in anticipation of the match, the Great Hall was hot and stuffy. Professor Flitwick was going spare trying to adjust the school's cooling charms to meet the pace of the uncharacteristic heat wave that seemed to be hitting the area.

As she sat at the Gryffindor table, surrounded by the usual line-up of fifth years in their usual spots—Andy and Nadine on either side of her, Kerney directly across, Artemis and Colin on either side of the Kernel—Ginny peered around her housemates to gauge the status of each of her teammates. Harry and Ron were quietly murmuring responses to Hermione, with the former picking at his food while the latter ate more than enough for both of them. But then, she knew Harry never ate much before a match.

It looked like Hermione was forcing him to hydrate himself, though. For once, Ginny was thankful that Hermione was a nagger. While as Keeper Ron probably wouldn't have much issue with the heat, the rest of them would need to hydrate as much as possible before the match. Ginny herself had already gotten through five glasses of pumpkin juice and was nearly done with her sixth.

"Slow down, Gin, or you'll have to take a leak in the middle of the game," Kerney offered. Ginny smiled and killed the remaining juice in her glass. Kerney shook her head. "Do you actually like it when I say, 'I told you so'? Because that seems to be happening more often these days." She was, of course, referring to her prediction that 47 boys would ask her to Hogsmeade. In fact, there had been only 29 invitations, but the Kernel had been correct in all the essentials.

At 10:30 Harry stood up and said "locker room," drawing the attention of Ginny and her teammates, as well as Calvin Wilde, the seventh-year Ravenclaw captain. Ginny was ridiculously pleased that Cho had not been named captain. Then again, she figured the team leader would have to be made of sterner stuff than a human hosepipe. As Ginny followed Harry and her brother out of the hall, she watched the Ravenclaws follow suit.

Roman Keselica pointed at her in a joking, trash talking kind of way, and she pointed right back, smirking happily. He was their Keeper, and they were sure to come up against each other numerous times during the game.

But from that moment until her Quidditch robes were on—under which she was already drenched with sweat—she was immersed in tactical discussions with Katie and Betsy, occasionally hollering some thing or another at Stevie or Jack. Harry and Ron seemed lost in their own heads as they quietly suited up.

At ten minutes until ten o'clock, Harry moved in front of where they were talking and sitting on benches.

"All right, you lot. Ravenclaw's best player is their Keeper. Keselica is really good." He looked meaningfully at Ginny and the other two Chasers. "You've got you work cut out for you. His strength is his reflexes—he's incredibly quick. You won't want to be trying much misdirection, so pick your spots. The most important thing is that you shoot well today. No Keeper is going to shut you out, so you've got to take advantage of the chances you get. On defense, I want Katie on Sheldon and Ginny on Haven." He turned to the Beaters.

"Stevie, you have to be in Calvin Wilde's back pocket. You need to devote yourself to being a royal pain in his arse. He knows how good Katie and Ginny are, and he's going to be teeing up for them. I don't want him to get off any clean shots at them, got it?" Stevie nodded. Ginny had to keep herself from giggling at him. The kid had his "game face" on and it was extraordinarily serious compared to the expressions that usually crossed his face.

"Ron shouldn't have too much trouble; their Chasers are all young and were not particularly impressive last year. I've got Cho, obviously, but I shouldn't have a problem." He looked at the team and almost smirked. His eyes were flashing. Ginny nearly fell off the bench.

When did he get so confident? He knew he was good at Quidditch, probably the best in the school; but he'd never even come close to saying so. This glimpse of him warmed her insides and gave her confidence. Granted, she was already sweating through her robes it was so hot outside, so maybe it was just an effect of the weather.

"We should win this game. We are definitely the better team. Any questions?" Ginny was now itching to get on the field. She could feel Katie's excitement next to her, and Stephen was practically humming with energy. Ginny looked back at Harry, who was looking directly at her. She smiled ferally, and he returned it in kind. This was their first game playing together, and the feeling was intense. Following Harry's lead, they all put their hands in for a cheer. Harry gave the one-two-three and they shouted "LIONS!" and lined up to walk out onto the pitch.

Twenty minutes into the game, Ginny could barely sit up straight on her broom. Her robes were drenched with sweat, and even her Retro seemed to feel sluggish in the overpowering heat. She looked and felt like she had just jumped in the lake. _Except_, she thought bitterly as she caught the Quaffle, drew a defender, and passed it of to an overlapping Katie Bell, _the lake would be much cooler than this_.

She was not alone. Every player on both teams was sagging. The sun was blazing down, and Dumbledore and McGonagall had conjured tarps over the spectators in the stands. Ginny sent them a jealous glare as she accelerated past Haven Tidmarsh to catch the leading pass Betsy had sent her way.

Five minutes later, Ginny was getting dizzy and Betsy Moran nearly fell off her broom. Luckily she caught herself, but that seemed to be the last straw for Harry, who promptly called timeout. They were leading 20 to nil.

As she flew to the ground, the thought flashed through Ginny's mind that she would rather play naked than in all the bloody robes. Whose ridiculous idea was it to play in robes in the first place? She had to give Muggles credit when it came to sports—they didn't wear yards of needless material. Remembering that there technically was no rule about uniform specifications other than that a team had to wear the same color, Ginny got an idea.

As soon as she touched down, she started tearing off her clothes. Katie and Betsy didn't need much persuading, and the girls on the Ravenclaw team soon caught on as well. The boys on both teams stood, watching their female counterparts strip down to their shorts and sports bras.

Hermione must have come down to the field when Harry called the timeout to see if everyone was all right, and looked a bit appalled at what they were doing. It took a few minutes, but soon the blokes were all down to t-shirts and shorts. Crimson and blue Quidditch robes littered the pitch. Ginny turned to a shocked Hermione.

"Quick, turn my sports bra red," she said to the older girl, who snapped out of her surprised look and tapped Ginny, Katie and Betsy's shoulder straps, turning their sports bras crimson. She tapped each girl's leg and turned their spandex shorts a matching Gryffindor gold. Another tap on each leg conjured their numbers—an 11 for Ginny, a 33 for Katie, and a 2 for Betsy.

The boys were already wearing red Gryffindor Quidditch t-shirts with their numbers on the back. Ron was number 1; Harry, the same 7 he'd had since first year; Stevie had taken his aunt's number, 8; and Jack had kept the number 25 from the year before.

Seeing what was going on, Madam Hooch had touched down and gone over to help the Ravenclaws do the same. Turning back to her teammates, Ginny laughed at Harry and Ron, who were obviously not used to seeing her and Katie Bell without a shirt on. Ginny thought briefly that her mother would strongly disapprove, but was quickly laughing again at the sight of Stephen gawking at her. When Madam Hooch had gotten the Ravenclaws in order, they resumed play.

It was a whole different match.

Without their wet, sticky, and clumsy robes impeding them, both teams flew faster, felt cooler, and picked up the tempo of the game considerably. It was still outrageously hot, but not impossibly so.

Her Retro seemed to sense her increased energy, and came alive. She was the fastest flier on the field and could cut and change direction on a dime. And she fully exploited her advantage. Her obvious skill with a broom drew the attention of the Ravenclaw Beaters, as well as their Chasers, leaving Betsy, and to a lesser extent, Katie, almost completely free to move the Quaffle.

By the time Harry caught the Snitch, Ginny had not scored since she put in the opening goal two minutes into the match. But Betsy had scored six, and Katie had added four. They won by a score of 260-90.

But the highlight of the game, by far, was when a smiling Harry jumped off his broom after catching the Snitch, ran past a half-naked Cho Chang without a second glance, and wrapped up a half-naked Ginny in a sweaty, disgusting hug. She decided that she liked the feeling of his hands on her skin.

It was a few minutes before Harry seemed to remember that she didn't have a shirt on, at which he jumped back, gazed at her indulgently, turned bright red, and went to find Ron.

After exchanging hugs and smiles and congratulations with the rest of her teammates, Ginny stood on the pitch watching her team and her housemates chattering happily and replaying the game. She was just thinking about how content she was when she heard someone clear their throat behind her. She turned around to find Baron Ramsey standing in his full school uniform, but even without his robes, she wondered how he hadn't already passed out from heat stroke—the match had taken over three hours. She smiled.

"It seems that, in addition to being the fastest flier in the school," he began, with a completely unsubtle glance at her "uniform," "you are also the most resourceful one." Ginny laughed.

"Thank you," she replied cheerfully.

"Was your intention to distract all the male players, or merely to mitigate the heat?" He didn't smile, but his eyes were glittering. Ginny smirked.

"Just the heat," she replied. "But if I managed to distract anyone, all the better," she added, shrugging innocently. Here the Head Boy actually did smile, which transformed his already handsome face. He was freaking gorgeous. She had never seen him smile before. Why the hell didn't he do it more often?

"Well, congratulations on your victory," he said, glancing over her shoulder. His beautiful, smiling face fell back into its usual demeanor. "I should probably leave you to celebrate with your team." Ginny thought that he was taking his leave rather abruptly, but when she turned to look over her shoulder, she saw why. Harry and Ron were glaring daggers at them. Ginny rolled her eyes as she turned back to Baron.

"Oh, don't bother with them. I can talk to you if I want. They're just idiots." She leaned down to pick up her disgusting robes and her broom. "Come on," she said, smiling kindly at him. "Walk me back to the locker room." And he did.


	9. Black, White, and Grey

**CHAPTER 8**

**Black, White, and Grey**

It was pretty late at night; Ginny was the only one left in the common room, sitting on the couch that faced the fire, knees pulled up close to her body. Her hands held the sides of the group picture they had taken during the D.A. meeting that night. She studied it, almost like she was memorizing it, as if she knew it would soon be taken away and wanted it clearly imprinted in her mind forever.

It was a wonderful picture, and the only thing she regretted about it was the absence of five of the original members: Fred, George, Lee, Angelina, and Alicia.

She smiled as her gaze graced the front row, all sitting on the carpeted floor of the Room of Requirement: the Patils on the far left, distinguishable only by the colors of their school ties; Ernie Macmillan and Justin were next, followed by the four beaming youngsters, Dennis, Betsy, Stephen, and Nadia. The kind faces of Hannah and Susan finished out the row.

The second row, seated on chairs behind the first, made Ginny's smile grow, though not until after her eyes had passed over Cho Chang and Michael Corner, who sat at the left end. Colin sat adjacent to Ginny's ex-boyfriend, with Neville smiling his friendly smile on the other side. Luna came next, eyes for once focused on the camera, her left arm linked closely with that of a contented-looking Ginny, who sat in the middle. Ginny's left arm was intertwined with Andy's, who in turn had his other arm around Nadine. Kerney sat next to Nadine, shooting skeptical glances at a grumpy-looking Zacharias Smith to round out the row.

The third row was standing behind the second, beginning with Terry at the far left. The Ravenclaw was seated next to Anthony, who was followed by Seamus and Dean as her eyes moved to the right. Then, next to their housemates, came the famous trio, Ron, Harry, and Hermione, arms around each other in an understatement of the deep affection and friendship they shared. To the right of Hermione stood Lavender, followed by Katie, and the eldest Ryan sister, Naomi.

Though she took pleasure in reviewing the entire group of students who had united behind Harry to form Dumbledore's Army, Ginny's eyes settled on the center of the photo, where she sat smiling between Luna and Andy.

As she watched the photo version of herself interact with her friends, she caught something she had not noticed at the time. The black-haired boy with bright green eyes who was standing directly behind her—with the smallest, but wonderfully satisfied smile—had his hands on her shoulders. Not clutching them or leaning on them, but laying them lightly, as if merely to let her know that he was there. Whether that had been his intention or not, she hadn't realized he was standing directly behind her until the photo came out, and hadn't the faintest idea that he had been the owner of the hands she'd vaguely felt on her shoulders.

The more she watched, the more she felt like laughing and crying at the same time. Ron and Hermione were alternately glancing at Harry (with concern) and at each other (with affection); Andy's arm was tucked securely around Nadine's small waist.

But most unsettling of all—though certainly not unwelcome—were Harry's constant and unsubtle glances down at the back of her own head. She cleared her throat to the empty common room as she watched the antics captured by the picture start all over again, failing to prevent tears from welling up in her eyes. She was in the process of taking a preemptive swipe at her eyes with the sleeve of her jumper, when she saw a shadow fall over the picture and felt someone leaning on the couch behind her.

Traces of someone's unique scent of exertion—one that had become very familiar in much higher concentration after Quidditch practice—told her immediately who it was, and she felt distinctly warmer than before he had made his presence known. Without glancing at him, she spoke quietly, hoping that conversation wouldn't disturb his marvelously close (but slightly unnerving) proximity.

"What are you doing up?" she asked casually.

"I could ask you the same question," he answered, standing up from where he had been leaning on the back of the couch, walking around to where she sat, and plopping himself down next to her on the cushy seat. His legs were spread out lazily in front of him, while hers remained tucked up close to her body.

"But I see you've been doing exactly what I've been doing up in my room," he finished.

Ginny finally turned to look at him, only to be met head-on with Harry's gaze, which was rather intensely trained on her. She looked back at the picture and sighed at her own silliness. Why was it suddenly so hard to look him in the eye?

"I love this picture," she admitted.

"Me, too," he agreed. "But it scares me." Ginny turned to look at him again, forgetting her self-consciousness of the moment before.

"Why does it scare you?"

He smiled grimly in a way that reminded her very much of Sirius and Remus.

"Moody once showed me a picture like this. But most of the people in it were either dead or missing, all on the orders of Voldemort. I don't want our picture to end up like that one."

"The original Order of the Phoenix," Ginny said in confirmation, remembering how Harry had known about her uncles. Harry nodded gravely.

"I don't want to think that someday someone could be talking about the Creevys like they do about your uncles; or point out Ron like Sirius; or—" he paused and glanced at her nervously "—someone else like they were my mum and dad, or the Longbottoms. I don't want this to be a record of good people who were murdered and tortured. That's why it scares me."

With a sigh he leaned back fully on the couch, and she thought that perhaps he'd closed his eyes. She confirmed that he had when she finally worked up the nerve to turn slightly to her left, secretly pleased that it gave her the opportunity to look at him indulgently and unobserved. The secret pleasure momentarily turned to horror as she leaned into his side and rested her head on his shoulder without thinking.

The horror was in turn converted to a somewhat frightening but simultaneously wonderful heat when he automatically adjusted to accommodate her and slid his arm around her small shoulders. Though his eyes remained closed, she could have sworn that she felt his face relax slightly at the shift in their positions.

They sat quietly for a long time and though she knew very well that there was a stark and dangerous world waiting for them outside the walls of Hogwarts, she wished that there was nothing else in the universe but her, Harry, and the cozy common room.

But, just as any girl would fear he might, the boy occupying her attention acted much like a typical boy would, and said something stupid.

"So," he began quietly and more bluntly than she ever would have expected. "What's the deal with you and the Head Boy?" he asked, opening his eyes and turning his head slightly to watch her. Ginny sighed. _Well, it was nice while it lasted_.

"Not you, too?" she pleaded, burrowing her shoulder further into his side to hide her face.

"Just curious, is all," he half-heartedly explained, perhaps realizing that his need to know had cost him the moment's contentment and comfort.

"The absolute last thing in the world I need is another brother, Harry," she reminded him. She bit her lip, hoping that he didn't read behind the exasperation in her voice.

"Believe me, I know," he replied, giving her right arm a little squeeze as he spoke. This mollified her somewhat.

"I'm not going to marry the bloke, or anything, if that's what you're on about." She couldn't help sounding at least a little patronizing. He chuckled.

"Glad to hear it," he said, giving the same arm a light affectionate scratch.

"Devon thinks I should," Ginny blurted out, once again wondering how her voice box was proceeding without checking with her brain first. Apparently her subconscious was extremely curious as to what Harry had to say on the matter. He started when she said it, and cleared his throat a little before speaking.

"She reckons you ought to marry Baron Ramsey," he restated without humor. Talk of marriage at the age of fifteen—sixteen, for Harry—seemed to delight him just about as much as it did her. "The princess of the blood traitors and the Slytherin Head Boy." Ginny chuckled.

"I know, seriously, right?" she replied in an attempt to keep the atmosphere light.

"Your kids would be brilliant at Quidditch."

It was insane how such an innocuous comment could fill the room with such an awkward tension. At his off-hand observation she finally looked up at his face, and they must have both thought very same thing at exactly the same time, because they each suddenly looked away. The next logical step from the speculation about Ginny and Baron's hypothetical children having marvelous Quidditch genes was, _of course_, to substitute the best player Hogwarts had ever seen into Baron's place in the equation.

Imagine the little Seekers such a union would produce!

Ginny was blushing profusely and internally chastising herself for thinking something so ridiculous. Of course, she hadn't the faintest idea that the other person in the room could possibly be entertaining the same thought. The next words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.

"She says Baron has passion," she added, almost by way of explanation.

Harry sat there, stock-still. Ginny was thankful she had resumed her position with her face turned toward the fire and away from his, though she still leaned against his shoulder. Her heart felt like it belonged to a chipmunk, it was beating so fast.

"Oh, _well_, that settles it then." He spoke almost bitterly, with much more feeling than she ever would have anticipated. She pinched his side teasingly and tugged on his t-shirt.

"Oh, don't get so grumpy. She said the same thing about you."

And for what seemed like the millionth time since the summer, she cursed her big _sodding_ mouth for acting without her express permission. The implication—quite obviously not lost on either of them—was that, if Devon had said Ginny should marry Baron because he had passion, and she also said that Harry possessed the very same attribute, the logical conclusion would be that Devon had mentioned Harry as a matrimonial option as well.

Ginny was enormously relieved when Harry—who had tensed again when she'd spoken—relaxed against her and the couch. Even better was when he ventured to speak. Gadzooks, the boy was maturing before her very eyes! A year ago the poor bloke would have been helpless in a situation like this.

"Well, as long as I rate with the Head Boy, I guess that's okay," he said, lightly scratching the side of her arm again, with the hand of the arm that was wrapped around her.

Several minutes passed in surprisingly comfortable silence, at which point Ginny's eyelids began to grow heavy. She shifted next to him, causing him to stir in such a way that indicated he might have drifted off to sleep. She gave his side a squeeze and tried to rouse him.

"Harry," she whispered. He squirmed but did not wake up.

"Harry!" she hissed more insistently. He groaned with slight annoyance and peeked out of one eye, smiling slightly when he saw that it was her doing the waking, and it grew into a self-satisfied smirk when he noted that she was still half-tucked next to him.

"What do you want from me, woman!" he asked jokingly, closing his eye again. She tugged on the arm that was still half around her as she sat up, making him smile, though his eyes stubbornly remained shut.

"We should go to bed," she insisted. She found his other arm and checked the watch on his wrist. "It's past one in the morning, Harry, and unlike some other gits I know, I have three O.W.L.'s to study for and only two more weeks to do it in!" His closed-mouth smile widened, and he finally opened his eyes as she persisted in tugging on his arm.

"I like it here," he said, as a small child might who is used to getting his way. Which was, of course, completely adorable seeing as Harry had never gotten his way in his whole life. Ginny finally stood up and Harry put out his arms for her to pull him up from the couch. "Besides, you've been studying for these things since the summer. You're going to be fine, Ginny."

She pulled him to a standing position. He stretched and yawned, and Ginny had to fight the instinct to reach out and touch his finely chiseled stomach when the bottom of his old Quidditch t-shirt rose slightly above the waistband of his pajama pants. _Oh, for Merlin's sake_.

To stop herself from staring, she busied herself with picking up the photo from where it still lay on the couch and turned toward the stairs to the dormitories, Harry following behind.

She stopped where the stairs diverged to the girls and boys wings of the Tower. Harry stopped when she did, and looked down at her expectantly. She in turn looked up at him, thinking briefly that she was still not used to how tall he had grown over the last several months. A small smile graced her face at the thought, before it was replaced again by the one that had made her stop in the first place.

"Can I ask you a question?" she said, after studying him for a moment.

"Sure," he replied, looking a little unsure at her rather serious expression.

"The power you have that Voldemort doesn't know about," she began quietly. Harry nodded for her to continue. "Do you know what it is?" Her tone was hopeful, and it was apparent that the hope was more for his sake than her own desire to get an answer.

"Dumbledore said he knows what it is." Harry followed this admission with a sigh, and ran his hand through his interminably messy hair. "He told me, but I don't know how the hell I can use it to kill him." Ginny bit her lip in consternation at Harry's visible distress.

"What is it?" she ventured calmly. Harry turned his eyes to meet hers.

"Love."

"Love?" He nodded and let out a grim laugh.

"Yeah. He said that it's the one thing that Voldemort doesn't know or understand, and therefore he underestimates it. And according to Dumbledore, I have it in spades." He paused, shaking his head and looking more worried than he had in a very long time. "Only, I don't. I grew up with people who have always hated me, I never knew my parents, Sirius is dead, Remus is far away, and the only relationship I've ever had with a girl was an unmitigated disaster. I don't know what he's playing at."

Ginny was determined not to cry. She took his hand in hers and squeezed it firmly, causing him to look her in the eye again. She wasn't smiling—_who could, after what he had just said?_—but her eyes were blazing with a fury and determination that transfixed him.

"I know you have it in you," she said, leaning in closer to whisper. "You just need to learn how, is all." She squeezed his hand again in reassurance, and stood up straight. He still looked concerned, but now that that concern was mingled with something else—hope.

"I'm going to need help," he admitted. She smiled.

"You'll have help."

"Okay." He rubbed his thumb lightly over the back of her hand before letting it go. "You need to sleep so you can ace your O.W.L.'s and shock the pants off of Hermione," he said, a small smile breaking the surface at last.

"Okay," she agreed, smirking back. "Night, Harry."

"Night, Ginny." And they went their separate ways to bed.

There were two days left until the Christmas holidays. Ginny had taken her O.W.L. in Transfiguration the previous day, and had done just swimmingly on the thing until she happened to look up from the teapot she was supposed to be transfiguring into a bunny, saw Harry walking past the open doorway to McGonagall's classroom, and turned it into a Labrador instead.

She knew that slip-up had likely cost her an Outstanding on the practical bit—even though she started over and proved she could perform the correct spell quite easily—but what was an O.W.L. grade when Harry had smiled at her and waved?

He had been walking with Remus and Dumbledore, which made her think he had been starting or ending one of his private tutoring sessions.

As to her exams, Professors Tofty and Marchbanks from the Ministry of Magic had concluded the testing session with approval—and McGonagall had nearly smiled. Both of the Ministry evaluators had apparently volunteered to oversee Ginny's exams, largely due to their curiosity that a student would consider attempting such a thing as sitting them early.

That morning Ginny had taken the written part of her Potions exam, and was quite positive that she had earned an 'O' on that one. Professor Snape had been lurking in the back of the room as she complete the question booklet, scowling more and more as Ginny's countenance brightened with every questions she knew. Which turned out to be all of them.

At the moment she was waiting to add the final ingredient to the last of the three potions she had been instructed to brew for the practical evaluation. Tofty and Marchbanks (and a still glowering Snape) had already taken up her stoppered vials of Veritaserum and Draught of the Living Death, and were now just waiting for her to add the last pinch of ground moonstone to the Pepper-up Potion that was simmering in her cauldron.

As the clock in the room struck four o'clock, she added the pinch and used a brass whisk to stir the potion nineteen times counterclockwise. It promptly turned the correct color, and she removed it from the heat. She filled her last vial with the concoction, stoppered it, and took it to the front of the room.

The hall was deserted at three o'clock in the afternoon, as Ginny made her way back to Gryffindor Tower. She had just finished the practical portion of her Defense O.W.L., having gotten the headmaster to secure a promise of strictest confidentiality from the examiners before she would show them her Patronus.

Conjuring the silvery version of Harry-with-wand-and-sword had elicited three sets of raised eyebrows—and Ginny herself was intrigued by the fact that something had surprised the headmaster.

All in all, Ginny was pleased that she would probably be awarded two O's and an E for her exam grades, walking the path back to the Tower with a self-satisfied smile. Tomorrow she and Harry, her brother, and Hermione would all be heading back to Spinner's End.

She wondered briefly whether Herpo missed his old home at all, but swiftly decided that the kitten seemed to be happiest wherever Harry was.

Deserted halls at Hogwarts were nothing new to a girl who had a habit of being out her dormitory after curfew, but it was somewhat odd to see the halls empty during the day. But the too-quiet, placid atmosphere didn't last long. As she walked past an empty classroom, a loud "Ouch!" resonated out into the hall. Ginny stopped to listen, recognizing the pained voice instantly.

"Oh, poor Loony. Did that hurt?" another voice mocked. Ginny knew that voice, too.

"What do you want, Olivia?" Luna asked in her eerily calm voice.

"Not much," the Slytherin answered sarcastically. "I don't like how friendly you are with Sheldon Wilde." Ginny had to control herself to keep her anger from setting off any accidental magic. While it would be brilliant to scare the pants off of Olivia that way, it wasn't worth the risk of being discovered. She took out her wand.

"What's wrong with Sheldon being my friend?" Luna asked in a voice that projected naïve and honest curiosity. Ginny knew better than to believe Luna was either naïve or curious about the subject of Olivia's interrogation, and smirked in appreciation of her friend. Olivia didn't have a clue who she was dealing with.

"You're not just friends with him, though, are you?" Olivia insinuated. It was clear that an answer wasn't required. "He was near enough to asking me out until you started getting in the way. Now he barely even talks to me." Ginny had to swallow a snort of laughter. She knew quite well, from both Roman and from Sheldon himself, that the younger of the Wilde brothers was not the slightest bit interested in Olivia Flint.

Ginny decided it was time to make her presence known.

"Oh, come on, Olivia," she said, walking into the room and fiddling with her wand where the other two girls could see it. Luna's eyes twinkled. "You know Sheldon Wilde wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot broomstick. I reckon you just wanted to have a go at Luna because you're all bent out of shape about something else."

Olivia's face hardened into a look of pure loathing.

"Speaking of getting too friendly," she said acidly, completely ignoring what Ginny had said. "What do you think you're doing with Baron Ramsey? As if the Slytherin Head Boy would ever look twice at a poor, dirty little blood traitor like you." She wore a satisfied smirk. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Baron's my friend," Ginny replied calmly, "and if he pays more attention to me than he does to you, it might be a hint that you're the undeserving one, not me." Ginny took enormous delight in watching Olivia seethe. It was almost as much fun as watching Snape.

Olivia didn't have a comeback for that one and, in what could only be explained as a desperate lapse in judgment, she made the grave mistake of reaching for her wand.

Ginny—who easily could have out-drawn Olivia and blasted her across the room before the other girl could say "jealousy"—restrained her instinct to curse Olivia first. She didn't want any spell damage she caused to appear unprovoked. Not that it would matter if Olivia ratted her out to Snape, but it was the principle of the thing. Luna stepped back to avoid the fray she could see was coming.

Olivia sent a cutting hex slicing across Ginny's cheek. Ginny flinched, but wasted no time in exacting her retribution. Consecutive shouts of _Diffindo!_ and _Dolere!_ accompanied by the appropriate wand movements in quick succession sent Olivia crashing back into a row of desks, but only after slicing her cheek and snapping the largest bone in her arm like a toothpick.

Ginny felt vindicated, but her satisfaction was interrupted by the sound of footsteps rushing down the corridor—someone must have heard Olivia shriek. Ginny turned to Luna.

"Quick!" she hurried her friend. "Hide in that supply cupboard! I don't want you to get in trouble!" Luna hesitated out of solidarity, by an insistent glare and a hissed "Go! Hurry!" from Ginny sent her quickly into the closet. Ginny dropped to the floor to make it look like she had been knocked down as well.

Professor Wrightman entered the room briskly, but with the same rigidly graceful stature she always had. Spying the somewhat crumpled form of Olivia Flint, moving and whining on the floor, she turned to the artificially sprawled Ginny.

"Miss Weasley," she asked in a stern voice. "What is the meaning of this!" Ginny turned to face her teacher, whose eyes revealed how much she had not been expecting to see a considerable slice running—and bleeding—across Ginny's left cheek.

But Ginny knew her own injury would matter very little when it came down to punishment. It was quite evident which one of them had taken the brunt of the spells cast, and it sure as hell wasn't going to be her.

"Get up," her teacher ordered her. "Go straight to the hospital wing to have your cheek mended, and then go straight back to your dormitory. I will see you in my office at eight o'clock tonight for detention. Forty points from Gryffindor."

Ginny's expression made no secret of her outrage at such a high penalty, particularly when she had come between Luna and the heinous little skank on the floor. She pointed to Olivia, who was now sitting up, cradling her disfigured arm, but smiling nastily.

"Aren't you going to take points from _her_?" Ginny yelled indignantly. "She cursed me _first_!"

"I will deal with Miss Flint, I assure you," Professor Wrightman answered, but Ginny got no comfort from her assurance. Olivia looked delighted. It was Ginny's luck that the only professor wandering by would be a sodding Slytherin.

"Yes, I'm sure the punishment will be as bloody fair as can be," Ginny smarted back. In Ginny's experience at Hogwarts, Slytherin teachers always let their students get away with the trouble they made. Why would Professor Wrightman be any different?

Before her teacher could scold her or ratchet up her punishment any further, Ginny stormed out of the room. She didn't go to the hospital wing—though more out of spite for her teacher than because she didn't need healing—and was glad that no one dared speak to her as she stormed through the common room and up to her four poster.

At seven o'clock, Ginny decided to get something from the kitchens before detention, since she had been sitting in her room, brooding, all through dinner. She walked grumpily back through the common room, thinking that Harry must have come back from his private lesson, as he was watching her with his brow furrowed at what could possibly have made her so out of sorts. She hoped he wasn't going to follow her under the cloak or something. Though it would be such a Harry thing to do.

Luckily, he didn't—not that she could know for sure, since if he was following her under his invisibility cloak, she wouldn't be able to see him; but she had a hunch that she'd have gotten a feeling if he had.

Unluckily, she hadn't been nearly as hungry as she usually was for dinner, and had only taken 15 minutes to eat. Not wanting to return to the scrutiny of the common room, she reluctantly decided to go ahead to the Defense professor's office. _You never know_, she thought with no small amount of disdain, _maybe I can start early and get out of there sooner_.

With the increased intensity of her O.W.L. studies over the past few weeks, the intriguing knowledge of Professor Wrightman's intimate connections with both Harry's mum and Sirius had been pushed to the back of her mind.

But now, as she stalked unhappily down to the woman's office for what she saw as an unfair punishment, she began to wonder on that subject again. How could she have been so unfair to Ginny when she had been friends with people like Lily and Sirius?

Then again, she _was_ a Slytherin. Ginny didn't usually let herself fall into her brother's blanket disdain for that House, but it suited her needs tonight as she wanted to think about the woman as unkindly as possible.

But if she had seriously entertained any hopes of starting and finishing her detention early, they were dashed when she crossed through the Defense classroom and found the teacher's office in the back of it empty. She sat in the visitor's chair and looked around, becoming more disgruntled as she noticed that the arrangement and décor of the room revealed virtually nothing about the individual who occupied it.

Everything was obnoxiously—though tastefully—neat. Ginny would have been scared to touch things if she didn't completely resent being there in the first place.

But then something caught her eye—something that she had never seen before; something that she had only heard about from Hermione and the headmaster; something that made her forget to be so out of sorts for the moment.

She couldn't be sure, but as she stood from the visitor's chair and walked toward the side table on which it sat, she could have sworn it was a Pensieve.

Pensieves held memories, and the memories of this particular teacher might be particularly interesting to see. The part of Ginny that would always be wary and deeply suspicious of invasions of privacy—instilled in her by her experience with the diary—ordered her brain to sit back down.

But, at the moment, that part of her brain was being quite easily shouted down by the much bigger part of her that felt insatiable curiosity and the timely return of her anger at her teacher.

The Pensieve sat there, shining and mocking her—the answers to some of Ginny's questions, maybe even the key to learning whether or not they could trust this Gertrude Wrightman.

After all, hadn't it been said that Ginny took after the twins more than all her other brothers? It didn't take a genius to figure what Fred and George would have done in this situation.

Ducking her head into the stone bowl, Ginny felt like she was falling and falling until, at last, her feet caught ground and she stood in a room. Make that a glittery, golden, gigantic room with five people standing in a circle in the corner, the one facing Ginny obviously a young Gertrude Wrightman.

If Ginny had thought Gertrude Wrightman was poised and stunning at thirty-something it was nothing compared to the girl standing in this room. She was in her late teens, probably around Ginny's age, and aside from her ramrod posture and perfectly fluid hand motions, she had the same golden hair and pale blue eyes. She looked very much like herself, with only a detail changed. Ginny hesitated to call it age. Rather Ginny would say it was years. Yes, this Gertrude Wrightman lacked the years the older one had, not age.

The woman beside Gertrude who shared her pale eyes looked at the bloke to Ginny's right and said, "Hello, Mr. Black."

Ginny's gasp was so loud that she thought even a memory could hear it. Standing beside her was a young Sirius Black, a young version of Ginny's confidant and friend. Her dead confidant and friend. And damn but he was hot. Ginny shook herself. What was he doing here? How did Gertrude Wrightman know him?

"He is no longer recognized by the name," said the woman beside Gertrude. Ginny turned to glare at her and saw another shock: it was Bellatrix Lestrange. A younger Bellatrix. A beautiful in the I'd-Kill-My-First-Born-In-Order-To-Be-This-Perfect-Forever kind of way Bellatrix. But Sirius Black's cousin nonetheless.

This houseguest did nothing to endear Ginny to Gertrude Wrightman.

But even the shock of seeing Sirius's cousin could not keep Ginny's eyes from returning the painful sight of Sirius Black, alive and full of life, looking so angry that he might just blow something up. Yet he kept his cool façade up.

"Yet he is still recognized as a guest of the Wrightman family," the woman beside Gertrude replied. "As such, he deserves some respect."

It took a moment for it to click, but when it did, Ginny felt like an idiot. Gertrude Wrightman was of _the _Wrightmans. No wonder the Slytherins reacted to her the way they did. No wonder Draco Malfoy said nothing when Gertrude passed him in the corridor, never made a snide comment around her, seemed even to respect her.

No wonder Snape both respected and resented her, no matter how well hidden he hid the second emotion.

"Mrs. Wrightman, this is Lily Evans," Sirius said, gesturing to the redhead Ginny hadn't seen well. Ginny was nearly faint was her confusion and shock. What was going on here? Wasn't that Harry's mother? What was she doing with Sirius? What was she doing with Bellatrix and Gertrude Wrightman?

"Gertrude, right?" Lily asked. "I'm a prefect, too."

Oh. They didn't know each other.

But then, why was Sirius smirking like he was proud of Lily's response, like she had just said something clever? Lily looked like she was lying about something. Ginny had never met the woman, never seen her interact with anyone, but something about her said she was being false. Ginny doubted that she lied very often.

"Evans?" Mrs. Wrightman asked, looking at Lily with distaste. Now Ginny wanted to kick her.

"Yes," Lily said, smiling a completely wholesome and perfectly beautiful smile. "It's a very common name, like Smith or Jones. There are a thousand of us, all Muggle, of course."

Ginny laughed. Ha! Harry's mother was funny! And she had absolutely no qualms about confronting the matriarch of one of Brittan's most illustrious families. Ha!

Looking like she had just swallowed a hippogriff, Mrs. Wrightman told Gertrude that she and Bellatrix had to discuss the distribution of charitable revenue of orphanages, leaving the three teens to share what was most decidedly an uncomfortable silence. Ginny could only hope some sort of answers would come shortly.

"So, this has been really fun," Lily said dryly. Ginny smiled again. Seriously, Harry's mum was fantastic.

"What are you doing here, Sirius? You know you shouldn't—" Gertrude asked, staring at him. It sounded as if she knew him. Intimately.

"I received a letter from my mother today," Sirius said. He sounded simultaneously sad and furious. It was a tone Ginny had only ever heard him use when discussing Peter Pettigrew or the deaths of James and Lily Potter. Who was Gertrude to evoke such a tone?

"And then you left it open on your bed at the Potters," Gertrude added. Sirius looked questioningly at her. "James Potter has been waiting in the kitchen for over an hour for you to arrive."

"James is here?" both Sirius and Lily asked. Gertrude nodded.

"Do you want me to go and fetch him?" Gertrude asked snidely. Ginny had never heard her use that tone before. She was sort of happy to know that the woman was not impervious to emotion.

"Snide comments work for you, Gertrude," Lily said. "They go with the whole snooty-heir thing." Ha! Lily Evans was funny. How odd.

"If you could fetch him, that would be divine," Sirius said condescendingly.

"This was not my choice, Sirius," Gertrude said. Ginny was definitely confused as the scene shifted with Gertrude's point of view. She was leaving the room. "Nor was it much of a surprise considering current trends."

Gertrude left then. Ginny followed. But it was odd that Gertrude left because she immediately summoned a house-elf and asked that they bring James Potter to them. Why hadn't she stayed in the room with Sirius and Lily Evans and done that? She wasn't even listening at the door to hear their conversation.

But then James Potter walked into the room exuding an aura of—of something that Ginny couldn't quite name. He looked so much like Harry and yet Ginny knew that she could never mistake one for the other. Not only were their features distinct, but even looking worried and preoccupied, James Potter looked perfectly put together, perfectly on top of things, perfectly confident in his own abilities. The only time Harry looked like that was in the air, on a broom.

"You summoned?" James asked, obviously irritated with being summoned by a house-elf.

"Sirius is here."

"Good," James said, not sounding nearly as surprised as Ginny was. But then, James had come here after reading some letter, hadn't he? Why had he expected Sirius to come over here? Who the hell was Gertrude Wrightman?

Gertrude looked steadily at him, then turned and faced the room. James looked at her and then at the doorway and began to walk forward. Gertrude grabbed his arm.

"Hey, I know you've never been a friend or really a big fan of me," James said, "but you have to know that I'm going in there and talking to Sirius sooner or later."

Gertrude looked at him. "In a minute more."

And so they waited the minute and then Gertrude walked into the room. Once again, it seemed to be in the middle of what might have been a very interesting conversation.

"I'd lose four classmates because they thought they were better than Dumbledore, that's what!"

"I see you've begun an interesting conversation in my absence," Gertrude said, and Ginny looked over at her, shocked. She never would have guessed that she and Gertrude thought similarly about anything. Ginny looked around, saw Sirius breathing heavily as he did after he yelled at someone in a fight and wondered how Lily and he could have been fighting about people dying.

Lily was not even glancing at Gertrude. In fact, she was staring at James and trying to calm her own breathing. It wasn't working. James was staring right back. Ginny wondered if they were always this mushy—staring at each other across the room.

"Lily? What are you doing here?" James asked.

"Apparently offering moral support to anyone who asks," Lily said. Ginny couldn't believe Lily was this sarcastic. "You?"

"Waiting to offer moral support to someone who never asks," James replied. Ginny knew he was talking about Sirius because that perfectly described him.

"What a coincidence," Lily mused, tilting her head to the side and glancing at Gertrude and Sirius, who were looking at each other. Ginny looked at them too.

"Do they want some privacy?" Lily asked.

"Yes, but do you really want to wander around this estate alone?" James replied.

"This _estate_?" Lily asked. "No. There are probably booby traps for Muggle-borns everywhere."

"True," James said, staring at Sirius.

"Sirius, would you like to speak in private?" Gertrude asked, looking at Lily as if for approval. Lily nodded, glancing around the room for a comfortable place to sit. Lily sat down on the ground. James followed suit.

Gertrude looked at them, shocked and vaguely uncomfortable, but couldn't seem to find the words to voice her disapproval before Sirius placed a hand on her lower back and pushed her out of the room. Ginny followed. She would have been giggling about Lily Evans except she was too shocked by how well these four seemed to work to care.

"Don't you have anything to say to me?" Sirius asked once they were in a study on the second floor.

"What would you have me say, Sirius?" Gertrude asked. "That I'm sorry? I'm not. This was your fault. You knew this would happen and still you made the choice to turn your back on your family."

"I didn't turn my back on my family. I moved out to dispute some of their decisions."

"And became scorch mark seventeen," Gertrude said. "Did you really think my father and mother would still approve a marriage between the two of us?"

What? Ginny's mouth literally dropped open. _What?_

"You could have told me yourself," Sirius said. "You could have had the decency to tell me."

"I only found out when James Potter appeared on my doorstep with your mother's letter in hand," Gertrude said, still so formal.

"What?" Sirius had been blind-sided by that, Ginny saw.

"You know how these things work, Sirius," Gertrude Wrightman said dismissively. "Why would I be consulted?"

"Because it's your future, you stupid girl!" Sirius yelled. Ginny stared, shocked. She doubted that anyone other than Sirius Black would dare call Gertrude Wrightman a stupid girl.

"It is my family's future, and an alliance which my parents will arrange as tradition demands." Her tone became so formal that it might as well have been a screaming fight, the way she was hurting Sirius.

"What if they chose Malfoy?"

"Lucius is already married to your cousin." Gertrude, Ginny thought, was missing the point.

"What if they chose Snape?" Sirius asked, and if Ginny thought she heard hatred in Harry's voice when he said Draco Malfoy's name, it was nothing compared to the scorn in Sirius' tone.

"Don't be ridiculous. You know he doesn't have the stature. Nor does Regulus, no matter what he now receives," Gertrude said. Ginny had to think a moment to remember that that was the name of Sirius's brother. "My parents will choose properly. No one lowly. No one without class. No one directly related to the Dark Arts. They will protect the name and the legacy."

It took a moment for Ginny to realize what about this conversation was bothering her, and then it clicked as Sirius answered and Ginny missed it: this was Sirius and Professor Wrightman as sixteen year olds, or thereabouts. This was them speaking as children, or at least people Ginny's own age. Yet she had never met anyone that spoke like this. Well, actually, Baron Ramsey did, but he was the exception rather than the rule.

"Leave your family," Sirius said. "They would feed you to the wolves if it increased their prestige."

"And I would gladly face those wolves if it helped my family survive," Gertrude said. Well, if that wasn't the _dumbest_ thing Ginny had ever heard.

"Don't be so stubborn," Sirius said. "Would you join the Death Eaters for them?"

Gertrude glared. "Never. It would hurt my family's reputation and link them with a side that is going to lose, eventually. Tyrants cannot last forever."

"That's some twisted logic, Gertrude," Sirius snapped. Ginny agreed. What a selfish wench.

"It is what I need to do."

"Leave your family. Leave all of this behind. You don't need it," Sirius said, still angry, but also sort of begging, and Ginny hated Gertrude right then for making Sirius this way.

Though she had to say, if Sirius was trying to convince Gertrude to object to breaking off the engagement, she didn't think he was going about it the right way. Even Ginny could see that ordering Gertrude to abandon her family was not the best way to get his point across.

"You know I can't do that," Gertrude said. And despite the fact that she could see the answer coming, Ginny wanted to hex her. Couldn't she see the desperate honesty in Sirius' eyes as he looked at her? Couldn't she see that he was offering a way to keep her away from Death Eaters? "You _know _I can't do that, Sirius."

"You could."

"Sirius, don't ask this of me," Gertrude said. "My family and the tradition it represents—"

"Are nothing!" Ginny cringed. _Bad move, Sirius_.

"They define my life," Gertrude said. Sirius looked like he was about to say something, but when Gertrude shook her head at her, he closed his mouth. "Your family defined your life and without them you're falling apart." Given her experience with Sirius' mother—in her dreams and in the painting—Ginny begged to differ.

"I'm coming together as I should have the first time."

"It would be easier for you to reunite with your family than for me to leave mine." That was rather hard to believe, as Gertrude's family was surely as evil and horrible as Sirius'. Her mother and Bellatrix had seemed far too friendly for Gertrude's family to be anything better.

"You've made your choice already, then," Sirius said, anger flaring up again.

"I made my decision months ago, when I asked a girl to take a walk with me after curfew and she proved herself to be exactly who I always thought she was," Gertrude Wrightman said, and Ginny had no idea whatshe was talking about.

"You would really follow her?"

"Yes, and I'm on her side until the end of this mess," Gertrude said. "Will you follow her?"

"To death, I'd follow her," Sirius said simply. Ginny really wanted to know who they were talking about. She suspected that it might be Lily Evans, but that didn't make any sense. Why would Gertrude Wrightman follow Lily Evans? How could Gertrude follow Lily when she was so ready to give up her own life and happiness for her dark, bigoted family?

Sirius looked Gertrude in the eye for a long time and finally said, "I'll miss you, Gertrude."

"Not much and not for long. We were never more than acquaintances, brought together by our parents and united by our lineage," Gertrude said, in the same tone she would use to give them instructions in class. Even Ginny could tell that wasn't true. She wanted to shake this blonde, tiny, refined, distant girl. It was like watching someone in a Wronski Feint get closer and closer to the ground, knowing they wouldn't be able to pull up in time. It was like watching someone make the biggest mistake of their life. Why would Gertrude ever choose her evil family over Sirius? Why would she remain loyal to people who might become Death Eaters?

"We would have been great together," Gertrude said, relenting to what Ginny felt was the truth. "I was as upset about the contract breaking as you are, but I will see you again, if you stay beside her."

Sirius took two steps forward, placed his hands on either side of Gertrude's face, leaned down, and kissed her. It was a softer kiss than anything Ginny had ever seen, and it felt like an intensely private moment. Ginny was embarrassed to see it. When they came apart, Sirius stepped back and the two merely looked at each other.

"That was the first time you've ever kissed me," Gertrude said. Ginny was very surprised by that.

"It was the last time, too," Sirius said. "If you ever leave them—"

"I know," Gertrude said, and the room began to fade.

Annoyed, Ginny now found herself in a new memory. She looked around for Gertrude and found a slightly older version sitting in the last row at a church and a wedding seemed to be going on. Ginny looked around. There were a lot of guests. Ginny wondered if she knew the bride and groom, so she looked up at the altar and was shocked to see Sirius. Sirius Black had been married?

But no. He wasn't the groom. He was the best man, though he beamed as if this were his own wedding day.

James and Lily Potter walked down the aisle then amongst clapping and standing guests. A few whistled. Professor Wrightman merely did her close-mouthed almost-smile and nodded at Lily Potter as she passed her. Ginny spotted Peter Pettigrew in the front row. She saw Andy's parents to her right, though they were sitting a few rows apart from each other.

As the church began to empty, Gertrude Wrightman did not move. She stayed put as Sirius Black looked at her with one of the most smolderingly hot looks Ginny had ever seen. She stayed put as Peter Pettigrew glanced worriedly at her and left. She stayed put as Andy McGrath's mother came over and said hello.

"Hello, Christine," Gertrude said. "It's good to see you."

"You too." Christine smiled and nodded, sincerity etched all over her. Ginny instantly liked her and began seeing the resemblance between her best friend and this tall woman who glanced at Andy's father behind her (who was obviously waiting for her and trying to look like he wasn't).

"You're handling everything all right?" Gertrude asked. Christine looked back at her.

Christine nodded, glancing at Andy's dad again. "I have one more thing to fix."

"I hope it goes well," Gertrude Wrightman said.

"It will," Christine McGrath said before she turned around walked up to Andy's dad and kissed him on the mouth. Ginny's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets. They had seemed like they were in a fight a moment ago.

"Are you going to the reception?" came a voice Ginny recognized to their left. She looked over and saw a much younger Remus Lupin.

"Hello, Mr. Lupin," Gertrude said, distant.

"I didn't know you were coming," Remus said and Ginny cringed for him. He should have just left.

"I was invited," Gertrude said, using the icy tone she used with people she did not like.

"Are you—"

"Please stop speaking as though we are friends," Gertrude said. "We were prefects together. Nothing more."

"I know you don't like or respect me," Remus said, "because I'm a werewolf."

"I dislike you because you're weak," Gertrude said, standing. "I don't respect you because you let being a werewolf rule your life."

"Blunt, aren't you?" Remus asked quietly standing also.

"You seek approval from everyone," Gertrude said, "and that makes you weak, makes you do things you know you ought not to do."

Remus towered over her and still looked like he was no match for Gertrude Wrightman. "I would never hurt Lily or James."

"It's odd that you mention that, now that we know there's a betrayer close to them," Gertrude said. How well did Gertrude know them that they would share that information with her? Or did she simply know, as she seemed to know everything else?

"Will you tell Sirius that you believe I'm the betrayer?" Remus asked.

"I don't know yet," Gertrude said.

"If you do, he'll believe you," Remus said. "He'll think you know it from a source and you will break nine years of friendship."

"Some things need to break in order to be fixed." Ginny thought that was rich, coming from the woman who abandoned Sirius because he broke from his family to stand up for what was right.

A hand on her shoulder, a scarily solid hand, pulled Ginny out of the Pensieve and out of the memory of a church and a scared Remus Lupin. Ginny turned to meet the eye of the person who pulled her out and was not surprised to see Professor Wrightman staring coldly at her, hating her almost for this invasion. Well, that was fine. Ginny wasn't feeling too generous at the moment and might well hate Gertrude back.

"How _could_ you?" Ginny asked. The professor said nothing. "You turned your back on Sirius in his hour of need. You accused Remus of being the betrayer, setting in motion an entire stream of events that lead to the Potters' deaths."

"Don't you dare," Gertrude said, "accuse me of killing them, child. You have no idea what happened."

Ginny motioned at the Pensieve with her right hand. "I have enough of an idea!"

"Seeing snippets of memories from my head, taken out of context, is hardly a testimony of the past."

"You chose to stay with your dark family! You chose to accuse probably the best adult I know of the worst crime a person could commit: betrayal."

"How contradictory your statements are," the professor said. "You would have had me betray my family for Sirius on the one hand, and on the other you claim betrayal the worst sort of action."

"Don't twist my words!" Ginny snapped back. "You left Sirius to rot in prison as you stayed cozy with your family! If you know so much, if you have such great connections, how could you have thought he was guilty? How!"

"For all of your power and experience, you are such an innocent," Professor Wrightman said dismissively, levitating her Pensieve and turning to leave.

"You left him to die! You didn't do anything! Are you truly that heartless?"

And while Ginny had expected and wanted this refined woman to spin quickly around and lose her composure, Gertrude Wrightman surprised her: she reached out and took her Pensieve from the air, turning slowly, so slowly.

"I had an obligation," she said simply.

"Oh, that's right," Ginny said sarcastically. "You're a member of the Wrightman family, aren't you? Had to abandon good friends for a Dark Arts-loving family."

"It was an obligation Sirius understood."

"No he didn't!" Ginny said, gesturing at the Pensieve. "He asked you to leave your family, asked you to do the right thing instead of the easy thing."

"Right?" Professor Wrightman repeated. "_Right?_ Leaving them would have destroyed me. It nearly destroyed Sirius. He tried to kill a man just to channel his anger into something productive."

Ginny thought of the prank Sirius told her about, and how deeply he regretted almost making Remus a murderer.

"Would you find it 'right' to leave your family, Miss Weasley?"

Ginny started. "It's not the same! My family loves Harry. I would never abandon him, even if they did. And my family isn't a load of nutters."

"Nor is mine," Gertrude said, and Ginny knew she'd said something horribly wrong. "Nor was Sirius'. Have you met Andromeda Tonks? Have you met his uncle? Have you heard the story of Regulus, who joined the Death Eaters, realized his grave mistake, and died trying to run from them? You would condemn entire families based on a single person, condemn the Malfoys for Lucius when his sister abstained from magic in protest of the fact that he received the Mark."

"No, I wouldn't!" Ginny protested. "But Sirius didn't abandon Andromeda, the rest of the Blacks did! Sirius still talked to her, and his uncle, and he was close with her daughter up until he died! I know what happened to Regulus, Sirius told me. But Sirius left so he wouldn't be put in the same position as his brother. His _parents_ did that to him! It's what's going to happen to Draco because of who Lucius is. But I don't hate Draco because he's a Malfoy, I hate him because he insults my family, calls my friend a Mudblood, and gleefully prays for Harry's death."

"Don't claim to understand my life, Ginevra Weasley," Gertrude Wrightman said, jaw set, her back impossibly straight, eyes daring Ginny to say a word. Ginny glared right back at her. "You think you've seen darkness. You think you can judge me and the actions of an entire generation, but you can't comprehend what we've suffered."

"We?"

"An entire generation, torn apart by war and prejudice," Professor Wrightman said. Ginny met her gaze.

"I know enough to know that I would never turn my back on Harry. _Never_. I would never run, never hide, never avoid a war because it was too difficult."

There it was again, the eyes flashing. "You think you know so much because you confronted a _sixteen-year old Tom Riddle_."

"What!" Ginny was shocked that she could possibly know that. Dumbledore had said no one would know. Who _was_ this woman?

"I know about the Chamber of Secrets. I know about the comfort you must have found in the terribly appealing Tom Riddle and I know what you must have written in that diary to give him the strength to take your soul," Professor Wrightman said, not moving a muscle but still seeming to advance on Ginny. Ginny took a defiant step forward.

"I faced death at the hands of a young Voldemort and you think _you_ can intimidate me?" Ginny asked abrasively.

"You think I avoided the war," Professor Wrightman said, still holding that damnable Pensieve. "I worked every day for Dumbledore, for the Ministry. I worked as an Unspeakable, protected from having to tell anyone of my work. Protected because of my rank and my profession."

"So you covered your own arse?"

"I did it for my children and my husband," Gertrude said, "because Sirius Black had done what I never would have imagined and sided with the Dark Lord. And he was in prison, but I knew he wouldn't forget the fact that I chose to push him away. I lived in fear of one of my closest childhood friends for thirteen years."

"How could you not know he was innocent, that boy who kissed you so quietly?" Ginny asked before she could stop herself. Ginny did not doubt that if Gertrude were a less self-controlled woman she would have slapped her.

"It's so easy for you. You only knew him as an innocent, but in a time when my friend killed his sister and his parents before taking the Mark, no one could be trusted. Not even an old friend. Especially not a Gryffindor, who seemed so innocent. So, Miss Weasley, when you ask why I suspected him, it's very simple: everyone was suspect."

"I don't believe you," Ginny said.

"You wouldn't," she said, "because you have been privileged enough to live in a world where the enemy kidnaps you and puts you in a dungeon, where the enemy wears a uniform to identify them as the bad ones, and can be distinguished by the numerous curses they shoot at Harry Potter. In my world, the enemy could be a best friend as easy as a stranger, a teacher as easily as a librarian. The only ones you could trust were family and I had an obligation to them."

"An obligation to support the Dark Arts and betray your friends? No wonder Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor, and you were put into Slytherin."

Gertrude looked at her with near-hatred in her eyes. "An obligation to protect them. If I could do the right thing simultaneously, I had no objection to doing so."

"You'd only have that obligation if you were—" Ginny stopped herself and stared at Gertrude Wrightman. Stared. "Merlin, you're the matriarch aren't you? You're the head of your family. That's why you were going to marry Sirius, who is the rightful head of the Black family."

Gertrude's non-response was enough of a confirmation.

"What the _hell_ are you doing working at Hogwarts?"

"I'm doing a favor for the headmaster and simultaneously ensuring that a generation of Slytherins do not ruin the name of a House which deserves honor," she answered. Ginny shook her head at her.

"You head one of the richest and most powerful families in England. In _Europe_." Ginny was beginning to think this through. "It's perfect. Dumbledore, that old fox. He knew who you were. Knew you'd be—Everyone can't shut up about how fair you are, how you seem to demand the most of the Slytherins, how even Snape respects you. It's because you're the matriarch."

Gertrude said nothing.

"Did you know Lily Potter?" Ginny finally asked. "She was at your house with James Potter."

"I don't talk about her," Gertrude said, readying to leave again.

"Then you did know her. Then why—why don't you talk to Harry? Why don't you talk to Andy and Stevie? You knew their mother too, didn't you?" she said, remembering how her teacher's gaze had lingered so often on Andy's face. "Why didn't you take Harry in or contact him once he learned he was a wizard?"

"Because he was protected in his aunt's home."

"He was mentally and physically abused there, so what exactly was he protected _from_?" Ginny asked.

"Death," Professor Wrightman said simply. Ginny thought that was too much of a cut-and-dry answer, particularly coming from the woman who had scolded Ginny for seeing the world in black and white.

"There had to have been another way."

"Once more, your black and white world view won't let you see the truth of the matter. You see Harry's aunt as someone that hurt him and so she is evil, yet she keeps taking him back, doesn't she? He blew up his uncle's sister and still his aunt invited him back into her home and protected him with the magic she hates."

"It's not magic she uses."

"Her blood invokes old magic. She knows this. Still, she lets him come."

"She's not a good person."

"Are you sure?" Gertrude asked. "Can you draw a line between the good guys and the bad?"

"I can draw a line between the Death Eaters and the people who would fight for Harry," Ginny said defiantly.

Professor Wrightman continued to look at Ginny in silence and then said, "I have walked the line between the Dark Lord and the Order and have found both wanting."

"Then whose side are you on?"

"The side that I was convinced to join," Gertrude said, "by the one person who wanted for nothing and looked out for me, of course. The person who wrote to ask me to continue her work after she was forced to stay home. The one for whom I truly hated Sirius Black."

"You hated him?"

"As passionately as she ever loved him, as passionately as _I_ ever loved him," Gertrude said. "That much I hated him for what he did. You claim to know what darkness is, but you have not seen your friends the day after they received the Mark from the Dark Lord, with a twisted smile on their face as the pain first hits and forces them to join him. You've not seen the joy in their eyes as they report that they have been ordered to murder your best friend. You've certainly never trusted someone with your life only to discover that they betrayed everything you ever thought they believed in.

"You seem to believe, Miss Weasley, that I should not have suspected Sirius Black of murdering anyone. But did you know that he'd killed men before, to protect Lily Evans and James Potter? I had no doubt then and no doubt now that if he had turned his loyalty to the Dark Lord, he would kill in an instant. That was Sirius Black's great gift: his fierce, unrelenting, and amoral devotion to those who had managed to gain his trust and love."

"How would you know? It was the thing you questioned most!" Ginny accused, but she was loosing footing, feeling overwhelmed by this conversation, and beginning to feel truly uncomfortable.

"He told me that I was right to question him."

"You spoke to him after he escaped?"

"Of course," Professor Wrightman said. "And he told me that you reminded him of Lily Evans and that seeing you and Harry together made him feel like he was looking into the past."

Ginny felt more uncomfortable. Professor Wrightman had spoken with Sirius? Before he died and after he was known to be innocent? _They had_ _talked about her?_

"But I'll tell you something and then end our discussion with the number of detentions you will receive for this invasion of privacy," her teacher added.

"Lily Evans would never have cursed her sworn enemy. Even when Death Eaters threw curses at her, her first reaction was not to fight back as Sirius did. Instead, she cast a shield and shoved a stranger toward a Portkey to save their life. That was Lily Evans. So while I could imagine that Sirius would betray me and go to the Dark Lord in order to hurt me by compromising her, I could not imagine someone betraying Lily herself. I could not fathom the idea that Peter Pettigrew would go to the Dark Lord and hurt Lily Evans.

"You accused me of running and hiding from the war because I was scared and wanting to protect myself. Instead, if you want to know the truth, I will tell you that I followed Lily Evans into that war and onto Dumbledore's side. Like her son, she effortlessly evoked loyalty and had she asked me anything, I would have done it. Which is why, when I received her owl asking that I protect my family and devote myself to her work, that I study the one door that couldn't be opened, I did it. I was there studying it when she died. I was there until this August, when Dumbledore offered me the chance to teach and protect her son.

"So, no, I did not cast a curse at the Dark Lord. I did not kill his followers. Instead, I kept my family name respected and created new spells for Dumbledore, and all of this I did because I trusted that Lily Evans would pick the winning side of this war, because I wanted her to win."

After barely containing herself throughout her teacher's bitter explanation, Ginny now took a deep breath and came right back, both angrier and calmer (though more chastened) than she could have believed possible.

"You seem to think I equate the Order with those who would fight for Harry, that I see the 'good' side and those who follow Harry as being the same, but I don't. Just like you followed Lily rather than Dumbledore, so I would follow Harry into certain death, but not the headmaster.

"And don't you _dare_ tell me I don't know about darkness. So you think you know the details of the Chamber of Secrets. You told me the first week of school that you couldn't imagine going through the horror we went through at such a young age. Was that just a line? Were you just giving me the standard spiel like you gave Sirius all those years ago?

"Because I'll tell you, down on that concrete floor, with Harry fighting a basilisk, and Voldemort—yes he was already _Voldemort_ then—taunting Harry about killing Lily, about his _stupid Mudblood mother dying to save his life_, lying there literally having the life being sucked out of me, feeling things you could never imagine in your entire, heiress, duty-filled life—don't you, for a _second_, think you can brush me aside as less than what you've gone through.

"You're right that I don't know enough about what your generation has endured. Before now, I only knew what Sirius told me. But you, in turn, know nothing about what _we've_ gone through—_nothing_ about what Harry, and I, and Hermione, and my brother have been through, about what Neville has gone through, about what we now know is coming."

And as she kept ranting, Ginny waved her hand vaguely in the direction of the door, her shouted "_Colloportus!_" not even breaking the stride of her passionate defense.

"Did you know that I can speak Parseltongue? That Voldemort left some of himself behind in me when Harry destroyed the diary? That besides his intelligence and his gift for Occlumency, he also left his craving for the Dark Arts and part of his cold, blackened soul? Did you know that, because I'm the first daughter in seven pureblood generations," and this, at least, got Professor Wrightman's attention, "that the temptation—and the fury—of Dark Magic are a hundred times worse for me than they would be for you or Professor Snape or anyone else besides Voldemort himself? That I might be the next biggest threat to Harry after Voldemort? That I have dreams where the pull of casting Unforgivables forces me to endure debilitating, soul-crunching pain that lasts for hours?

"So you'll forgive me if I tend to see this war in black and white. But _don't you dare_ tell me about my generation. You may know about Death Eaters and your fucking duty to your family, and you may know worlds more about Lily Evans and Sirius Black, but you don't know a _thing_ about me, or about Harry, or about what's going on; _not really_."

Ginny paused here, to catch her breath, and then remembered one last thing.

"And, no, I'm _not_ Lily. And I don't want to be. I would never presume to aspire to what she must have been. Wanting to be her would insult us both—her because, as I understand it, she was amazing. Me, because I deserve to be my own person. But what's more, we don't _need_ another Lily—partly because there never could be, but mostly because Harry is _not_ his father.

"You may have noticed, in your brief acquaintance, that he's the opposite in every way. He needs someone who will speak up, who will fight for him because he would never take the offensive himself. Someone who will get in his face and constantly remind him that they believe in him completely, because he would never have the confidence on his own. Someone who will force him to realize that he can't be afraid of love, that even though he's been so badly burned in the past, he has to ante up and try again—not because the fate of magic civilization depends on it, but because _his life _depends on it. And someone who can show him that he doesn't have to be a slave to destiny, that any time he can spare actually living his life and planning for the future is still worth it.

"So whether you intended it as an insult or not, I could give a damn if you don't think I'm as great as Harry's mum. Just as you wouldn't care that I think Sirius Black was worth ten of you." She added sarcastically, "Guess I'm lucky you were never there to tell Harry how wonderful she was, since now he doesn't know enough about her to compare me. So, thanks for that."

There was a dead silence following her words, one that Ginny had not anticipated. One that had the older woman looking at Ginny through the fog of pale, aristocratic eyes.

"That's why you're taking your O.W.L.'s early," Professor Wrightman said.

"What!"

That was her response to Ginny's rant? Ginny fumed. She obviously hadn't paid any attention to what Ginny had said.

"You're taking your O.W.L.'s early to help Harry, because you think he'll need as much help as he can get far sooner than Dumbledore does," her teacher clarified, still looking at Ginny as though she were a piece in a museum instead of a person. "I thought you were taking them to boast, but you told no one of your plans. I thought you were taking them to prove your worth, but you already knew you could pass them without effort. So I decided you were taking them to be close to Harry Potter."

That struck a bit too close to home and Ginny tried to buffer it. "I already see him enough."

"No, you don't," her Professor said, "but the reason you want to be near him is as much for protection as anything else."

"Of course I want to protect him," Ginny said. How could this woman ever think she wouldn't?

"Of course," her teacher repeated in a whisper, lowering her eyes to the ground and looking up again. "I've spent my time with you trying to refute Sirius' assessment of you."

"Why? Do you still hate him that much?"

"I still _love Lily_ that much," she replied, surprising Ginny. She didn't seem the type to lay her feelings open to strangers. "But you are not what I expected to find, and it has been quite a while since I have been surprised by anyone."

"Maybe that's because you've apparently holed yourself up at work, studying a bloody door, instead of interacting with the world." Ginny was still feeling particularly upset about that.

"Perhaps you're right," Professor Wrightman said. "I have only barely fulfilled my social obligations."

"That damn obligation speech again."

"It's a part of my life as surely as it was a part of Sirius', but I don't expect you to understand," she said, and paused. "But I'd like to learn about your generation, about Harry and Andrew and Stephen. I would like to learn about you, first daughter of seven generations." She paused and for the first time, Ginny actually felt like her teacher had been listening.

"Because I don't know as much as I would like, and because we don't have to like one another to fight and work together," Professor Wrightman continued. But Ginny suspected it was something more, something about the other obligations that she had mentioned in passing: to maintain the respect of Slytherin House and to protect Harry Potter.

Maybe they _could_ work together . . . at least in part, at least as long as they both strove to accomplish the same goal. Maybe Professor Wrightman could help Ginny with her Defense training and Ginny could help the older woman feel like she was protecting Harry, even if indirectly.

At least the exchange had ended civilly. But Ginny couldn't help noticing, as they parted ways and she headed back to the Tower, that despite all the references to Voldemort, not once had Gertrude Wrightman actually said his name.

She stored away the thought for another day, and made her way back to the common room, ready to start the Christmas holidays.


	10. Merry Fucking Christmas

**Author's Notes: **I'd like to thank KTskywalker, potterfanforever, voided, blunt-but-honest, mary, Legit, maliaphire, Coveret, RBlack, Pops, Elyra, and Missy May for all their comments. I'm grateful for the reviews and hope you all enjoy the new chapter! There should be plenty of stuff to excite you, upset you, piss you off, or make you laugh in this one . . .

. . . I'll be looking forward to reading your reactions! Happy reading :)

**CHAPTER 9**

**Merry Fucking Christmas**

Ginny heard raised voices as she approached the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, cringing as she recognized Harry and Professor Snape as the sources of the shouting.

She opened the door and slid inside, unheard and unnoticed by those already in the room. Snape and Harry were faced off with each other, their faces wrought with expressions of pure loathing. Remus, Dedalus, and Bill looked on with shock and distress.

After her shouting match—though, to be frank, only Ginny had actually shouted—with Professor Wrightman two days before, Ginny wondered whether this wasn't some form of déjà vu. Except that the distaste hanging in the air between her and her teacher was nothing compared to the utter hatred of the two in front of her.

"—just a worthless, talentless excuse for a wizard, who ought to be expelled before he gets someone _else_ killed!"

As the words left Snape's mouth, Ginny felt her emotions start to simmer. All the respect she had for Snape as an instructor and as an essential member of the Order of the Phoenix was quickly receding as he kept having a go at Harry. She could feel her anger (at Snape) and empathy (for Harry) churning up her magical power and allowed it to rise within her.

She could have easily controlled it by now, having mastered it in the months since she had discovered it, but after having seen and heard only moments of Snape's relentless assault on Harry just now, she decided that somebody had to intervene. So she just let herself go. She was shocked that Dumbledore had ever allowed their enmity and distrust rise to such a level. As Snape kept laying it on—to which Harry was giving as good as he got—Ginny felt swirls of power churning, flooding through her torso and out to her limbs.

Then Snape insulted Sirius, and Ginny snapped.

CRASH!

The yelling stopped on a dime, as all the glass doors of all the cabinets exploded at once. All five men froze and looked at each other in shock, before Harry looked up and noticed Ginny. As he made the connection between her wandless magic and the shattering of the glass, his gaze lingered on her long enough for the others to notice and follow his eyes to where she stood.

Harry's face was blank, Snape's was uncharacteristically displaying a bit of uncertainty, and Remus just looked worried. But Ginny noticed only the face of her Potions instructor as she approached their circle. Eyes blazing, shoulders back in tense control, Ginny walked right up to her Professor. The others could feel the power radiating off of her in waves, including Snape, who actually took a step back. Her upright posture, tangible power, and intent gaze made her seem much more formidable than her 5'5" frame.

"What in the name of Merlin is the matter with you?" Ginny wasn't yelling, but no one in the room seemed to prefer her quiet, barely-controlled anger to the standard Weasley ranting. Wisely sensing that this was a rhetorical question, Snape did not answer.

"How can you say those things to another human being? Why would you ever do such a thing? It's inexcusable. I used to respect you. I even actually _liked_ your class. I understand that you have led a very dark and difficult life, and I understand that you have to keep up certain appearances at school for the sake of your role as a spy. I even understand when you torment my brother and Hermione, because they both tend to ask for it. But with Harry you go far beyond torment into torture. With him you really cross the line.

"I know you hated Harry's father, and I know you hated Sirius. But regardless of that, however much you dislike or resent Harry, there is no excuse for your behavior toward him. You are the _adult_. You are his _teacher_, for crying out loud! We're always being told that we can't join the Order and we can't be given information because we're too _young_, we're not _adults_. Well, that excuse won't fly with me anymore. If you are what qualifies as an adult, someone who lacks maturity and has no respect for any of his fellow human beings, then I don't _want_ to be a part of the Order. How are we supposed to trust, as I did until just now, that you are truly on the side of the light, when you fall so easily into heartless cruelty? From what I have seen you are no better than Bellatrix Lestrange."

Snape was bristling at her nerve, but Ginny just stared him down and pressed on.

"Sneer at me all you want, Professor. I am not afraid of you, and you _know_ it. I've seen and felt things you can only imagine. I've had Voldemort inside my mind, I've felt his evil, infernal grip squeezing my heart, tearing at my very soul. He's violated me in a way that you could never comprehend. I lost any misconceptions I had about goodness and innocence a long time ago. So did Harry. We know that adults aren't infallible, even Dumbledore. _Especially_ Dumbledore. We know that you can't protect us against Voldemort. You might be able to strike fear into all your other students, but don't think for one second that you can just brush us off.

"You know Voldemort better than anyone, save Dumbledore, Harry, and me. You know the only way to defeat him is to attack him with a power he does not understand, a power he therefore underestimates: Love. If you know all this, why, for all your cold logic, for all your intellectual brilliance, would you purposely diminish and exploit what little of this power Harry has left? Why would you replace his love and loyalty with anger and rage? If you were truly fighting against Voldemort, you would welcome the cultivation of what small amount of love he has left, not quash it for your own selfish, misdirected vendetta.

"I don't want to hear about how terrible your life has been, how unfair the world has been to you. That is no justification, no excuse for what you do. There is a greater concern here: destroying Voldemort. The difference between him and us is the high ground. When you relinquish the high ground in favor of hatred and rationalization, you are no better than he is.

"You revel in your delusion of Harry as an arrogant, attention-seeking prat; you insist that he gets favors and evades punishment because he's the bloody _Boy-Who-Lived_. But it's just that: a delusion. You like to hold things over him, believing that you know his true self, but feeling secure that he knows nothing about you. Who's arrogant now? As intelligent and observant as you are, you don't know him at all. You've been in constant contact with him for five years, and yet you haven't a clue. He is not arrogant. He is not his father. If anything, he has too little faith in himself, and you only make it worse. Any rash actions he takes are only because he does not want to lose what few good things he has left in his life. He does not take wild risks merely for sport.

"Yes, he's been a bloody self-centered git for the past couple years. No one can deny that. I've yelled at him for it myself. But he was neglected, abused, and kept in a cupboard until he was eleven years old." She felt Harry freeze. "He never knew love and affection until he found Sirius.

"As a child he was taught that he could never rely on adults for support when he needed it. So you'll excuse him if he doesn't trust them to do so now. Fat lot of good it did him trusting Dumbledore. Whether consciously or not, Harry thinks he has to deal with all these horrible things on his own, and no one but Sirius and Remus has done anything to make him believe otherwise. And because of the Order's mistakes, because you all say he's not a sodding _adult_ deserving of knowledge and respect, he's now lost the one person he would have gone to for help.

"You know it's got to be him that defeats Voldemort. As if it wasn't hard enough to defeat that stupid tosser in the first place, we've got you doing your best to make it harder. Bravo, Professor. Bloody brilliant job. Way to act like an _adult_.

"The last thing he needs to deal with is more of your condescension and cruelty. I'm not saying you have to like him. Just be reasonable! You need to treat him the same as all the other non-Slytherin students, or you _will_ regret it."

"Is that a threat?"

"No, sir, that's a promise."

And with that, Ginny held her teacher's gaze to drive home her point, turned, and walked away. As she lefy the room, she mumbled _Reparo!_ and gestured with a twirl of her fingers at the glass on the floor, which quickly reformed into the doors on all the cabinets.

As she left the kitchen, Ginny did not turn around. If she had, she would have seen a look of embarrassed shock on Harry's face, surprise and almost a hint of amusement in Remus' features, controlled hardness in Snape's, and utter incredulity on the faces of the other two.

**- - -**

Ginny bit back a sob as she made her way to the hidden sitting room where she used to talk with Sirius. No one else knew about it, and she could be assured of her privacy there. For extra precaution she threw a half-hearted _Colloportus!_ at the door, and collapsed in a sobbing heap on the worn couch.

As she played the scene back in her mind, she cried even harder. Why had she made such a spectacle of herself? She had just meant to derail their shouting match, but once she had started in on Snape, she had been unable to stop until she'd said her piece. Apparently unloading on Professor Wrightman hadn't been enough.

Suddenly she sat bolt upright and froze, as she remembered the incredible rush she had felt when all the glass in the room had exploded. But Harry's voice in her head calmed her, as she remembered what he had said about righteous anger not being a weapon or enticement of dark magic. Her feelings for Harry and her fury on his behalf had fueled the explosion, not any desire to cause pain for its own sake. She sighed as she let herself lay back down on the couch.

As her mind dwelled on Harry, she cringed. She had said quite a bit about him in that little tirade of hers, and while any outside observer would see it as her standing up to the abuser of her friend, she was almost sure that Harry wouldn't. He was probably mortified. He likely didn't think she knew about the circumstances of his upbringing, the cupboard in particular.

Oh, bugger.

_Bugger, bugger, bugger_.

He would be understandingly (albeit infuriatingly) humiliated by it, and would respond to that by avoiding her at all costs. _Bloody brilliant job, Ginny_. After all the bloody headway they'd made toward being friends, she'd gone and mucked it all up. And royally. Ginny scoffed out loud to the empty room. It wasn't like he hadn't ever done completely absurd things on account of being noble. Gabrielle Delaceour, anyone? Or thinking about running away last year over Christmas when he thought he was the weapon?

She knew she had a point, but that didn't mean Harry would act rationally.

Ginny's musings were interrupted by a popping sound, which caused her to look up in an effort to find the source. Floating in front of her was a sealed parchment envelope addressed to her. The seal on the back belonged to the Ministry of Magic. _O.W.L. results_. Ginny slid her finger under the flap of the envelope, dislodging the seal and tugging the folded parchment out. As she opened it, a small card (different in color and texture from the Ministry standard parchment) fell out. She picked it up to see what it said.

_Miss Weasley,_

_Professors Tofty and Marchbanks asked if I would do them the favor of delivering to you the results of your Ordinary Wizarding Levels. On account of your secret location, and in light of your desire to keep your O.W.L. status a secret, I thought it best not to simply owl them to you. I hope I was right to act this way on your behalf. Have a happy Christmas._

_Albus Dumbledore_

Ginny rolled her eyes at the headmaster's formality. Saying that he hoped he was correct in acting on her behalf was more than a little patronizing coming from the guy who had kept her and Harry in the dark about certain things for a long time. She read the first page, and yawned in a gratified manner, seeing the E and two O's she had been expecting marked down for her grades.

The second parchment looked very much like the booklists McGonagall put in with their Hogwarts letters every summer, except it was addressed to her specifically. It looked like she would have to ask Harry for his dad's old Transfiguration book back. She smiled at the thought of informing the twins of the books they were going to be buying her.

While she had not taken the tests early to boast or show off, it would be nice to get a little recognition from someone who would be proud of her. Not gushing or thinking ahead to future accolades, but just proud of her for pulling this off. The twins would smile in the goofy manner they saved for her and Ron alone, when they were either touched or impressed with something one of their two younger siblings had done.

Charlie would no doubt be proud as well, but aside from those three brothers, Remus, and perhaps Harry, Ginny dreaded revealing her new academic situation. If all went as planned, however, no one would find out until she walked into her first N.E.W.T. class in January.

The smile that flitted across her features at the thought of Hermione and Ron's reactions to her presence in their N.E.W.T. Defense was bowled over by a grimace at the possibility of her mother finding out before she went back to school. _Ugh_. It would be abominable. It absolutely could not be permitted to happen.

N.E.W.T. Defense class made her thoughts turn to the N.E.W.T. Defense teacher, with whom Ginny had rowed quite spectacularly the day before. What should she tell Harry? Should she tell him anything? She thought that he deserved to know what she had discovered about his parents and his godfather, but wasn't the least bit comfortable with the notion that it was her story to tell. Perhaps she ought to owl Professor Wrightman and ask?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a noise from the other side of the door to the sitting room. It sounded like someone was trying to get in. Ginny's annoyance was pushed aside by her curiosity to find out who else could possibly know about this room. A wave of her hand and a whispered _Finite Incantatem!_ ended the charm she had cast earlier, and on his next attempt to open it, Remus barged through the door, looking surprised at the ease with which it opened at last.

His surprise heightened once his gaze found Ginny in a heap on the couch, with tear-stained cheeks, red eyes, and a letter in her hand.

"Ginny?" he asked in bewilderment, a view of Remus she had never seen before.

"Hi," she answered. She should have guessed that if anyone knew about the secret room stashed away in the back of the house, that it would be Remus, Sirius' last surviving best friend. Uncharacteristically flustered, Remus turned to leave the room.

"Sorry for disturbing you, I didn't realize—"

"—that anyone else knew about this room?" she finished for him. He stopped and faced her again.

"Yeah," he said, frankly. Then he eyed her closely. He still hadn't gotten over his surprise at finding her there, apparently. They stared somewhat dumbly at each other for a few moments, until Remus pulled himself together. "Would you like me to leave you alone?" he asked her kindly, nodding toward the parchment in her hands.

"Oh, no, you don't have to leave. It's just my O.W.L. results," she explained, handing him the pages. He looked them over and then back up at her.

"Why are you so upset about such fine marks?" he asked, obviously confused. Ginny smiled grimly.

"I wasn't upset about the marks," she replied, with insinuation in her voice. She bit her lip as he worked it out.

"Would you like to talk about it?" he offered. She appeared to be weighing the offer.

"Does Harry hate me?" she asked, somewhat miserably. Remus furrowed his brow in consternation. She sure was on a roll with perplexing him this afternoon.

"Why on Earth would he hate you?" Remus asked. Ginny sighed. She had thought Remus was better at reading the nuances of Harry's personality.

"I'm pretty sure I just humiliated him in front of Professor Snape."

"Wha—?" The light bulb went on, realization dawning on Remus' face. "Oh. The cupboard." Ginny nodded.

"And it probably didn't help that it was a girl standing up for him," Ginny added, remembering the day in Flourish & Blotts, when she had told Malfoy to leave Harry alone. Remus chuckled.

"No, I suppose not." Remus considered her more closely. "Have you spoken to him since you left the room?"

"No," she said grumpily. Remus smiled broadly, though she did not see it.

"Well, perhaps you should give that a try before you begin mourning the death of your friendship."

"Easy for you to say," she pouted. Remus came very close to chuckling, but held it back in favor of a smirk.

"Ginny," he began, but she glared at him and he stopped of his own accord.

"Remus, you've got to remember that to you he's this sweet boy who is clumsy and looks like your best friend. To me he's this infuriating and frightening person who didn't even realize that I was alive until about a year ago. It would be extremely difficult for you to alienate him from your relationship, but for me, it's like I might breathe wrong and he'll avoid me for the rest of eternity. So I don't think its monumentally out of line for me to be a little nervous about this."

Remus looked very surprised at her little outburst. Ginny knew how he felt. She hadn't realized that she was still this insecure about Harry. Remus' countenance softened and sat down next to her on the sofa.

"Ginny," Remus tried again, and she allowed him to respond this time. "I think he's not quite the same boy you knew a year ago."

"I know he's not." And wasn't that the truth. Her mind floated back to the night two weeks before when they had been discussing the D.A. picture and the prophecy. And Baron Ramsey. That last topic alone proved that the sixth-year version of Harry was not the same boy he'd been when he left Hogwarts in June.

"I figured as much," Remus observed. "I think it would be beneficial to you both if you had a conversation about what went on in there," he added, nodding in the relative direction of the kitchen. Ginny sighed.

"All right. I'll talk to him." She remembered that she wanted Professor Wrightman's permission to explain what she'd seen in the Pensieve. "But not until we get back to Spinners End. I need to send an owl first." She turned to her former teacher. "Could you send it for me?"

"Sure, but let's take care of that before we return to Spinners End," he agreed. Ginny nodded and got up to leave the room, O.W.L. results in hand, in search of parchment and a quill.

**- - -**

Having sent off the owl to Professor Wrightman, Ginny set off to return her quill to her trunk. She was passing through the main hallway en route to where her things were stashed in the main parlor, when she heard a familiar voice call out her name.

"Ginny?" it questioned. She turned toward the kitchen door to find her brother Percy standing there, looking neither nervous nor as pompous as usual. Ginny's stomach dropped. Writing to him had been one thing, but seeing him here, blank-faced and not particularly apologetic, was another matter entirely.

"Percy," she said in recognition.

"How are you, Ginny?" he asked crossing his arms authoritatively and strolling over to where she stood. Ginny's fingers itched to find her wand, but she mentally forced her arms to stay hanging at her sides.

"I'm fine," she lied unabashedly. It's not like he'd be able to tell, and frankly she wasn't sure if he cared. His eyes glanced at the folded parchment in her hand. "I didn't realize you'd be coming around for Christmas," she said, hoping to distract his attention from the correspondence that contained her O.W.L. marks. His eyes returned to her face.

"I'm not coming for Christmas, actually," he replied. "But mum knew you lot would be coming through here on your way to Spinners End, and so I came by to see you." He paused in a way that Ginny supposed was meant to be meaningful. "Harry has refused to divulge the location of the house to me." Ginny bit back a smirk. Did Percy really expect her to be indignant on his behalf? _Merlin_.

"Well, I can't say that I blame him, after the stunts you pulled last year," she answered frankly, but not unkindly. Her brother furrowed his brow briefly in consternation, before his face cleared again.

"So you still haven't forgiven me."

"Well, seeing as you haven't ever apologized for anything, I didn't think the ball was really in my court, you know?" she answered him, with not a little exasperation.

"Well, I'm still not really clear on what you think I did wrong," he replied. His tone was patronizing and it was not the wisest attitude he could have taken if he intended to make it through this conversation without being permanently disfigured. Ginny gave up all pretense and took her wand out of her pocket, though Percy didn't seem to notice.

"You insulted dad, you hurt mum, and you tried to make Ron choose between you and Harry. You abandoned the family in favor of some stubborn blowhard who set back the war effort an entire year," she listed for him. "Would you like me to continue?"

"So this is what you meant when you encouraged me to come home? This is your idea of reconciliation? Criticizing me and expecting me to want to come back?" he snapped bitterly.

"You asked me a question, and I gave you an honest answer. Did you really think that I would be all smiles and giggles when you came back?" she fired back, growing more agitated. Her right hand fidgeted with her wand.

"I didn't do anything to _you_," he said, sounding like he thought he was being completely reasonable. As if her narrow self-interest was her only concern. Did he forget that she'd been sorted into Gryffindor and not Slytherin? Stupid ponce.

"Maybe not directly, but you sure made it hard for any of us to trust you again."

"Mum trusts me," he reasoned, as if that settled the matter. Spoken like a true favorite child.

"Yeah, and she thinks I'm a helpless little girl who's still six years old. Not exactly the model of having a firm grasp on reality." Percy's eyebrows raised in surprise at her blunt criticism of their mother. Wow, he really didn't know her at all, did he?

"I've never heard you speak like this," he said, still taken aback.

"Well, that's not surprising seeing as you ditched the family right about the time that I started growing a backbone," Ginny replied. "I warned you that this wasn't going to be a picnic, and I told you not to underestimate me," she reminded him.

"Or Harry either, as I recall," he said skeptically. Ginny hated how condescending he was.

"You should really take my advice, Percy," she warned him again. Her mind faintly recognized that someone was coming down the stairs behind her. "Unless you want flying bogies attacking your face." As Percy smirked at what he must have believed to be a childish hex, Ginny discovered who had been coming down the stairs.

"Ginny! Don't you dare speak to your brother like that!" her mum scolded, clearly understanding the gravity of the threat, even if her third eldest son did not. Ginny sighed and rolled her eyes while Percy smirked at his mother's defense of him.

"Stay out of it, Mum," Ginny warned, not bothering to turn and address her.

"I don't like that tone, young lady," she scolded. Ginny turned quickly, putting her hands on her hips in indignation.

"Mum, stay out of it. This is none of your business, and I can hex my stupid brother for being a lousy, ungrateful git if I want to!" Percy was again surprised by Ginny's unabashed manner of speaking her mind. Molly Weasley's face was battling between looking hurt and very angry. A small feeling of guilt began to rise in Ginny's thoughts, but was soon squashed by the ever-increasing resentment she felt toward her mother.

"Go to your room, right now!" her mother ordered. Ginny just stood up taller and set her shoulders. Her wandless powers were starting to simmer and rise as she became more agitated.

"No." Her mum's face blanched at her defiance.

"As long as you're in my h—"

"It isn't your house!" Ginny cut in. "It's _Harry's_ house! And I'm not in nursery school anymore! So quit acting like we're at The Burrow and you're still more powerful than me!" Ginny took deep breaths to calm herself down, and luckily her magic began to recede. Her mother was shocked into silence, and the sound of movement from behind her made Ginny turned around to see who it was.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were standing—the latter two wide-eyed—on the staircase, having just witnessed the exchange with her mother. Harry looked concerned, no doubt wondering for the hundredth time why Ginny's emotions had been so volatile over the past few days. Or perhaps he was worried that she'd accidentally blow something up again.

Ginny was about to leave when Ron finally noticed the presence of his long-estranged brother.

"Percy."

"Hello, Ron."

"What are _you_ doing here?" he asked in his usual tactless manner. Ginny smiled. Hermione elbowed him. Harry's jaw hardened.

"Mum told me you would be stopping through here today, so I came to see you."

"Okay," Ron said with little enthusiasm. Percy's eyes met Hermione's and then glanced at Harry. The tense stillness was broken by the arrival of a gorgeous grey owl. It was smaller than Hedwig, but larger than Pig, and as graceful as the person whom Ginny suspected to be its owner.

It landed on Ginny's shoulder and she stroked the bird's neck affectionately. Taking the letter from it, she sent the owl back to the kitchen (where it had come from) for a reward. Glancing at the seal on the back, she confirmed that it must be the response from her teacher. Everyone's attention had turned to her with curiosity.

"Who's it from?" Ron asked as unabashedly as usual.

"One of my teachers," she replied vaguely. She avoided looking in Harry's direction. "Excuse me," she said moving back down the hall in the direction of the secret sitting room, "I'm going to go read my letter." Before she turned the corner, she glanced back and saw Harry watching her. She paused, making eye contact with him briefly, and then continued on her way.

- - -

Ginny smiled without opening her eyes. Herpo was tickling her bare shoulder with his whiskers and occasionally sneaking in a lick or two. It was Christmas morning, and Ginny thought that perhaps she had finally returned to the elusive emotional equilibrium that had evaded her since the early summer.

When the ticklish feeling of Herpo's ministrations threatened to make her giggle, Ginny reached over with her opposite arm and plucked the kitten up and into her embrace, eyes still shut, feigning sleep. Herpo meowed and snuggled against her, burrowing himself into her pajamas and the down duvet that covered her bed linens. He began to purr as she started to scratch behind his ears.

"Merry Christmas, Herpo," she said, giving him an affectionate squeeze. He meowed again, apparently returning the sentiment.

Spinners End had a way of making her forget what was going on in Britain. Maybe it was the secluded location, or their distance from the heart of Order operations, or the lack of access to correspondence, but so far, it had been much easier to forget about Voldemort and Death Eaters and mysterious disappearances when they were cozy in Harry's wonderful house.

Suddenly Herpo tensed, as if he'd felt something was wrong, or was anticipating a bomb dropping. Seconds later, a loud commotion sounded downstairs, adults shouting and loud pops. Ginny had opened her eyes at the startling noise, and she only spared a second to share a look of concern with Herpo before jumping out of bed and hustling down the stairs, kitten in hand and presents forgotten, to the main room of the house.

Her parents and two oldest brothers were shouting and rushing all around. Remus was bent low with his head in the fire, and the twins were in deep conference with each other, which wasn't odd in itself, except that their demeanors were far more grave than usual.

Harry must have heard her rushing out of her room, because he joined her in the doorway soon after. They shared a worried look and turned their attention to the frantic adults in the room.

Remus called off the fire and turned around, beginning to speak to the room at large, when he noticed Ginny, Harry, and Herpo in the doorway. His face looked tired, and he looked as if he hated himself for what he was about to tell them.

"What happened?" Ginny asked quietly as he approached them. Herpo was watching Remus as closely as the two teenagers. Remus' face looked sad and he shook his head.

"The War has really started now," he sad tiredly. Ginny bit her lip and Harry's jaw hardened.

"How many," was Harry's simple question, though he breathed it out more than asked it. His arm snaked instinctively around Ginny's waist, as if to fortify the two of them against Remus' answer. She unconsciously leaned into him.

"Twenty-seven families," he choked out. Harry's eyes shut tight and he lowered his head. His arm was squeezing Ginny's waist as if she was the only thing keeping him upright. Ginny felt her eyes pool, but no tears fell. The image of the Dark Mark emerged in her mind's eye and she wanted to throw up.

She cleared her throat, put her arm around Harry, and took a deep breath. She knew Harry had opened his eyes when the fingers at her waist began to lightly scratch the small sliver of skin that peeked out from between her pajama pants and the old Harpies t-shirt that Bill had given her for her birthday in his first year as a curse-breaker. She gave his waist a quick squeeze and looked back at Remus, who looked exhausted and sad.

"Ten of your schoolmates won't be back this term," he added.

"Were they all Muggle-born or outspoken against the Dark Lord?" Ginny asked, to keep the conversation from stopping. She thought that if the discussion dipped into a lull, she might start sobbing. She didn't know whether it was from anger or sadness.

"Mostly, but not all. Two very prominent Purebloods were murdered. The only reason their children are still alive is because they stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas." Ginny's brow furrowed as she searched her memory for who it could possibly be.

"Who were they?" she asked quietly, hoping against hope that she didn't know the students.

"Baron and Genevieve Ramsey." Ginny sucked in a breath and the tears in her eyes finally went streaming down her face. At her startled reaction, she must have torn Harry from his internal misery, because he saw her distress and immediately pulled her into a full embrace as she choked back sobs. Harry held her seemingly as tight as he could, and she was grateful. She felt like maybe he could squeeze the sadness and anger out of her. And she thought that perhaps he needed to be squeezed, too. She wrapped her arms around his neck and buried her face in his chest.

She felt Remus' hand on her back, rubbing it soothingly.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize that you knew them." Ginny really didn't feel like talking. She was thankful when Harry answered for her.

"Ginny is good friends with the Ramseys' son. He's Head Boy. I know him a bit from Quidditch; he's a good Keeper and the Slytherin captain." Remus nodded. "His twin sister is best friends with Katie Bell."

Ginny wondered if any Death Eater children had complained about Gretchen's outspokenness to their criminal parents. She felt white-hot anger lick her insides at the thought. Baron and Gretchen were what Slytherins could be, what they _should_ be: the best of their House. The Gertrude Wrightmans of their generation.

Ginny had come to realize that, whatever her own thoughts on the subject of loyalty and marriage, she couldn't begrudge Professor Wrightman for doing what she believed was right. It had been twenty years ago, and Ginny hadn't been there. Gertrude Wrightman hadn't been the first person to tell her that she didn't understand what it was like in the first war. Remus and Sirius had done the same—though perhaps in a less accusatory tone.

Different people held different priorities, and knowing people like Baron and Devon as well as she did, she understood that their upbringings had taught them that the family name and legacy were the most important things; and that if sacrifices had to be made, then it was an honor to be the one to make them.

Could she honestly say she would be so angry at Devon for not challenging her parents in Professor Wrightman's situation? She wasn't sure. The fact that she respected her friend's intense need to be proper and out of the limelight made her think she would probably stop herself from lashing out like she had with her teacher.

And anyway, hadn't Professor Wrightman drawn a line at marrying a suspected Death Eater? She had scoffed at both Lucius Malfoy and Professor Snape, and Ginny remembered quite vividly how uncharacteristically upset she had become when Sirius had demanded she abandon her family. Not that Ginny had been too impressed with the part of the Wrightman family that she had seen—Mrs. Wrightman had been far too cozy with Bellatrix Lestrange to ever recover in Ginny's estimation—but, not unlike Sirius himself, Gertrude Wrightman was _different_.

Perhaps what Gertrude had understood that Sirius hadn't, was the fact that being an heir and eventually the head of your family meant not only great responsibility, but tremendous opportunity as well. As the matriarch and patriarch of the their respective families, Gertrude and Sirius could have changed their families' attitudes and behavior. Both powerful and highly respected wizards in their own right, the actions they required of their practically royal bloodlines could have influenced change throughout Britain.

At any rate, once she had read Professor Wrightman's concise note politely asking her not to share what she had seen in the Pensieve, Ginny had gotten to thinking, and come out with the conclusion that, while she may not always agree with her, she respected Gertrude Wrightman very much indeed.

- - -

Ginny had sighed with relief when she'd watched her mother's face disappear from view. Getting back to school without revealing her O.W.L. news served to very much put her mind at ease.

At the moment, she was sitting at breakfast with her friends, quietly smiling as she observed their conversations. Nadine and Andy were carrying on about something-or-other that had occurred at the annual Christmas celebration that their two families shared. Artemis and Colin were laughing and Kerney was rolling her eyes at the bickering pair. Ginny's thoughts settled on her first class of the day: N.E.W.T. Defense.

Just as she was considering what Defense and Transfiguration would be like without her three closest friends—and how she would bear N.E.W.T. Potions without her steadfast partner to keep her grounded—she felt someone's eyes on her from down the right end of the table.

Given the direction the gaze was coming from and its long duration—to say nothing of the familiar shiver than ran down her body—she knew almost immediately who it was.

A smirk formed as she forced herself not to look at him. Despite the pleasure she would undoubtedly gain from sharing a knowing look with Harry, she didn't want to give away her little surprise. Hermione was, after all, a bright and observant witch, and would surely catch on if Ginny and Harry were exchanging smirks down the table. Ginny's smirk became a full smile and she ducked slightly in hopes to avoid drawing attention to herself. She could have sworn she heard a chuckle come from a little ways to the right of her. This only made her chuckle a bit as well.

"And what do you find so bloody amusing, Gin?" Kerney asked with a poorly restrained grin. She, Andy, and Nadine already knew that Ginny would no longer be joining them for three of their lessons this term.

"Oh, nothing," Ginny replied innocently. This caused Andy to smile and Nadine bit her lip to avoid doing the same. They agree that it was a brilliant joke not telling Ron or Hermione about her expeditious progress past O.W.L. levels in three subjects. Artemis and Colin looked at them strangely, what with not being in on the ruse. The Kernel looked at her watch and spoke up, clearing her throat a little louder than was perhaps normal.

"Oh, look at the time," she began, with a significant look to the redhead across the table. Ginny, Andy, and Nadine's smiles grew with amusement at Kerney's antics. Ginny played along beautifully.

"Mates," she began, but gasped as if she had just realized something terrible. It was so fake that the four burst out laughing again. Artemis and Colin were looking at them like they had lost their minds. "Oh, no!" She pretended to look stricken. "I think I left my book in the Tower!" she declared, loud enough so Harry would get the signal. She only hoped he wouldn't be too obvious in getting away from Ron and Hermione.

"Okay, Gin," Andy joined. He gave her a ridiculously obvious wink that made Kerney spit out her pumpkin juice with laughter. "We'll see you in class!" Still chuckling, Ginny rose casually from the table and headed to the predetermined rendezvous point to wait for Harry.

As she passed his end of the table—though she forced herself not to look—she could hear Harry excusing himself to go to the loo before class. It was everything she could do not to laugh when Ron said he'd join him. Ginny walked a little faster so that she might be far enough from the table that they wouldn't hear her when she burst out laughing again. She knew if she did, Harry wouldn't be able to keep a straight face either.

She had been waiting in a secret passage for several minutes when the tapestry covering the entrance finally swung open to admit a grinning Harry Potter.

"This is going to be brilliant!" he said as soon as the door shut behind him.

"Yes, I think it will be," Ginny agreed, matching his smile. Harry extracted an old, ratty-looking piece of parchment from his school bag, and Ginny recognized it as the Marauder's Map.

"I solemnly swear that I am up to no good," he recited, tapping the parchment with his wand. Instantly the interior structures of Hogwarts began to appear. They both leaned in to scan the different hallways for Ron and Hermione.

"Nice, they're heading down from the loo right now," Ginny observed. They watched as Ron's dot exited the boy's loo and joined Hermione's dot, which had been stationed right outside. The two dots made their way down the various corridors leading to the Defense classroom, and Ginny's excitement increased as the punchline of their great private joke approached.

"Ready?" Harry asked, still in an uncommonly good mood. Ginny flashed him a devastating smirk.

"You bet." They watched as the two dots representing their friends walked right past the two dots labeled "Harry James Potter" and "Ginevra Molly Weasley." Harry checked his watch and after a few moments, tapped the map and said "Mischief managed!" The map disappeared. He looked up at her.

"We should be right on time. Let's go!" Ginny nodded as Harry held the tapestry open for her to step through. They didn't speak at all on the way, each too amused to say anything, though Ginny had begun to school her expression to remain casual. If she were able to keep a straight and innocent face during class, the effect of the joke would intensify.

When they arrived at the door they grinned at each other briefly, and then Ginny's expression went dead casual. She was a superb actress, and this was going to be one of her finest performances. Harry gestured at the door.

"Ladies first," he said, pleased with himself (though whether from the impending joke or his chivalry, Ginny couldn't tell).

"Let's go in together," suggested, slinging her bag more comfortably over her shoulder. Harry nodded and nudged her inside with a hand at the small of her back. They began chatting immediately, as planned, to increase the impression of non-chalance.

"So what do you reckon we'll be studying today?" she asked, as they entered the room. Everyone's attention was on them. There was an open double in the back of the class, and they made their way toward it.

"Oh, I suppose we'll be starting advanced incapacitation jinxes, seeing as we finished advanced reflective shields before the holiday." Ginny nodded.

"Excellent. I've always wanted to try a—"

"Ginny?" Hermione's voice rang through the classroom.

"—paralyzation hex. They must be very diff—"

"_Ginny!_" Hermione shouted. Ginny turned around, looking concerned for the older girl.

"Yes, Hermione?" she asked innocently. Harry cleared his throat and coughed unnecessarily to cover a laugh. Ginny stomped on his foot discreetly. His wince of pain took his mind off of laughing.

"Well, er . . ." The bell rang to signify the start of class. No one but Ginny and Harry noticed Professor Wrightman entering the classroom; everyone else was watching the two of them. "Ginny, this is sixth-year N.E.W.T. Defense."

"I know," Ginny replied innocently. She was shocked that Harry had been able to keep from laughing. But perhaps not for much longer, as Ron was the next to speak.

"But Ginny, _duh_, you're a fifth-year! Why are you in the wrong class?" It was almost comforting how blunt and loud Ron consistently was.

"She is in exactly the right class, Mr. Weasley," Professor Wrightman injected. All the students turned their attention back to the front of the room at the sound of their teacher's voice. Harry finally smiled. Ginny's face remained neutral as the two of them finally sat down.

"What!" Hermione burst out, in genuine surprise. Harry snorted and tried to cover it with a cough. People were now looking back and forth between Ginny and the professor wondering what the blazes was going on.

"Miss Weasley will be enrolled in this class from now on," Professor Wrightman explained.

"But Professor," Hermione returned with urgency—and this is where Ginny couldn't help but smirk because she recognized the competitive and rule-hawking side of Hermione taking over. "You can't enroll in this class unless you've earned an O.W.L. in the subject." Ginny rolled her eyes. As if Professor Wrightman didn't know that. Ginny's annoyance turned to barely-contained glee when Professor Wrightman sent a brilliant _don't-patronize-me-you-tiresome-little-know-it-all_ glare straight at Hermione. It was wonderfully effective at shutting her up and Ron was gaping.

"Thank you for restating the obvious, Miss Granger, but perhaps you are ill-informed," Professor Wrightman replied, and Hermione looked green. Ron looked as if he didn't know whether to laugh out loud or be shocked. Being ill-informed was one of the lowest digs as far as Hermione was concerned, and Ginny had a hunch that their teacher understood that.

"Miss Weasley has, in fact, earned an Outstanding O.W.L. in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Ron and Hermione spun and gaped at Ginny, who smiled sweetly, and it was all Harry could do not to burst out laughing. He was shaking with mirth, and Ginny kicked him to settle down. Hermione looked livid. Ron still looked shocked.

Professor Wrightman cleared her throat and the class turned its attention back to the front to begin the lesson, though Ginny and Harry caught Hermione turning around every so often to glare at them. After one such glare, Ginny looked up at her teacher. Professor Wrightman nearly smiled. Ginny contained a chuckle and went back to practicing spells with Harry.

Harry and Ginny began packing up their school things earlier than the other students, and were thus able to escape out of the classroom and into a secret passage before Hermione and Ron could catch up with them. Once in the safety of a hiding place, they burst out laughing and enjoyed themselves thoroughly.

They ate lunch in the kitchens, and then Harry skived off his next class to keep out of Hermione's way. The last class of the day was Potions, and Ginny reckoned she'd be able to avoid the older girl until they got back to the Tower for the afternoon.

With all their excitement and amusement at surprising Ron and Hermione, Ginny had completely forgotten to be concerned or self-conscious about seeing Professor Snape for the first time since she'd torn him a new one in the kitchen at Grimmauld Place. Her stomach plummeted with momentary anxiety, but she steadied herself and walked into the Potions dungeon right before the bell rang. Snape spotted her immediately.

"Weasley, you will be partnered with Mr. Nott for rest of the term. Do find your seat." Hermione looked appalled, as if Ginny had really gone too far by skipping ahead into not one, but two N.E.W.T. classes. _Just wait until Transfiguration_, Ginny snarked internally. Ginny's eyebrows had briefly raised at Snape's lack of open hatred, but she soon forgot her teacher when she recalled that Devon had named Theodore Nott among the group of eligible options for matrimonial . . . erm, bliss.

She thought for a moment, as she unpacked her Potions materials, that she wouldn't be the least bit surprised if Devon had engineered the pairing of them. Ginny shook her head and smiled as she took out a quill to take notes. Theodore Nott was watching her suspiciously. Snape had disappeared into his storage cupboard to retrieve something, and Ginny took the opportunity to speak to Devon's replacement. She extended her hand.

"I'm Ginny Weasley," she offered. He looked skeptical, but returned the handshake in the end.

"Theodore Nott. But don't call me that. Theo or Nott is fine." He wasn't nearly as obnoxious as Malfoy, which was definitely an attractive quality. Speaking of which, the stupid git was staring at her from two tables over.

"All right, Theo. How do you like Potions, then?" she asked. Theo smirked, and Ginny had to admit, it was becoming on him.

"You mean, am I any good at Potions," he returned. Ginny chuckled.

"I suppose, yes."

"I'm top in the year, if that's what you're wondering."

"Impressive," Ginny observed, but further conversation was cut off as Snape began the lesson. It wasn't until half-way through the period that they were able to converse about anything but dividing up tasks for the assignment and conferring on the steps of the process. When there was a lull in the procedure, Theo abruptly spoke.

"I know you're all chummy with Devon Pearce." _I knew it! _If Devon hadn't orchestrated this, Ginny knew she had influenced it at some level.

"I won't deny it," Ginny returned. Then she impulsively tried to throw the boy off his game. "She thinks we should get married."

In her experience with Slytherins it was important to keep them on their toes—that way they had as little opportunity as possible to keep you on yours.

But alas, it had not the desired effect. Instead of looking gobsmacked, he looked at her curiously and sat back in his seat, eyes twinkling and a smirk rising on his face.

"Indeed, she does. I hadn't realized that she mentioned it to you, though I can't say that I'm surprised."

Ginny smiled at this, but it was half out of open amusement and half from incredulity that Devon would be so transparent. Then again, she wasn't really surprised. Perhaps it was the combination of Devon mentioning it to Theo and Theo confirming it so casually.

Her inner monologue broke off when she looked back at Theo, who was smiling. Not gorgeously like Baron had that one time, but not in the off-putting way Draco Malfoy did either. It was different. It didn't light up his face, but it complemented it very well, the way that Devon's might if she ever really smiled. There was a humor in it—whether he was sharing it with her or enjoying it at her expense—that was very appealing to a girl who had learned many of her life lessons from Fred and George Weasley.

At last she decided that he was smiling as though she had made him reevaluate his view of her and he was uncommonly pleased with the result.

"Well, shall we, then?" she answered at last, trying to speak calmly.

"Shall we what?" he returned.

"Get hitched," she said, using the crass slang on purpose to upset his proper Slytherin sensibilities. She knew too much of Baron, Devon, and Gertrude Wrightman not to recognize traces of the same fundamental etiquette in her new Potions partner. His eyebrows raised slightly. She looked at him innocently.

"Take your time answering, I suppose. Only, I want to owl Mum as soon as the engagement is final, so don't take too long." She was fluttering her eyelashes gratuitously. Theo snorted and turned back to their cauldron to add and mix the next ingredients. Without breaking stride he kept the conversation going.

"You are not what I was expecting," he admitted. Ginny smirked.

"Your first mistake was not believing what Devon told you," she ventured. Theo finished attending to their potion before answering.

"That is true," he agreed.

"Don't you know? Devon never says anything she doesn't mean," Ginny said, echoing her friends words from a few months before. Her eyes twinkled at the memory. "That's why she talks less than any other girl in the whole school."

And at this, Theodore Nott, the son of a Death Eater and Samantha Caldwell, erupted in laughter. Ginny was surprised and delighted that laughter clearly came easier to him than any Slytherin she had ever known. It wasn't music to her ears like when Harry laughed genuinely, and it wasn't jolly like Ron's or triumphant like the twins', but it made her grin nonetheless. Much like his smile, it wasn't bright or beautiful, but it fit him brilliantly.

Ginny was still smiling and watching her partner curiously as his chuckling died down and he added pureed shrivelfigs to their simmering concoction. She began grounding up Dover chalk for the next step, glancing at him periodically, never noticing that the rest of the class—and their teacher—had been alternately shocked, appalled, and bewildered at their rather pleasant interaction.

- - -

Ginny had completely expected that Hermione would pounce on her as soon as she returned to the common room. After a surprisingly fun section of double Potions—due primarily to her new partner—Ginny was enjoying the revelation of her secret studies to the utmost.

She greeted the Fat Lady cheerfully, and offered up the password. Sure enough, the moment her red hair came into sight around the painting, Hermione was upon her. Ron and Harry walked up behind her, the former with eyebrows raised and his arms crossed over his chest, the latter smiling pleasantly and scratching his head. Hermione looked quite cross. This improved Ginny's mood.

"What is going _on_!" the older girl insisted with a shout.

"Hermione," Ginny said calmly—and to be frank, not a little patronizingly—which only pushed Hermione to be even more out of sorts. "I don't know why you're so angry. I took three O.W.L. exams early, and passed all three. It would be silly for me to stay in a class I already tested out of, don't you think?" Ginny loved this game—using Hermione's own inclinations and obsessions as arguments against her. Harry coughed again, presumably to stymie his amusement.

"But—but—" she stammered. Ron looked at her with shock. When in the past had Hermione Granger ever been unable to articulate what she wanted to say? Or scold someone, at the very least. She huffed a big, somewhat dramatic sigh. "You didn't tell anyone!"

"I did _so_, I told all my closest friends!" The dig was indirect, and after all these years of being neglected, Ginny wondered if Ron and Hermione would even take offense at it. Harry's expression had gone from extreme amusement to intense and thoughtful consideration. "All of the relevant professors knew, and my favorite brothers knew." Ron scowled. Hermione's cheeks were red with agitation. Who knew Hermione was as easy to wind up as Ron?

"But you told _Harry_!" her brother accused, as if her crime was self-explanatory. Ginny's eyebrows raised slightly in an unapologetically patronizing manner.

"Yeah, and?" Ron looked honestly confused and Hermione was looking increasingly put out.

"Well, why did you tell him and not _us_!" he insisted. "You and Harry aren't even that good of friends." Ginny's face converted quickly from casual amusement to restrained hardness. Harry broke out of his pondering to glare at his best friend. Sparing a glance at Ginny, it was clear that he knew Ron was treading on very thin ice. "Plus, I'm your _brother_! You should have _told_ me!"

Ginny finally laughed bitterly. Harry started to look as if he were thinking about moving out of harm's way.

"Wow, Ron. And I thought _Percy_ was stupid." That was a low blow, considering she knew how Ron felt about their older brother. But it shut him up. "You haven't spared me a second thought since the day you left for Hogwarts. Don't tell _me_ who my friends are." It was that quiet anger again, the kind that worried people who were used to explosive Weasley tempers. Ron looked nervous. Harry's eyes were glued to her. Hermione had temporarily forgotten to be angry with her shock at hearing Ginny speak to Ron this way.

"And if you don't know your own bloody best friend well enough anymore to know who _his_ friends are, then you've got a lot of nerve blowing up at me like this. Don't act all neglected, _Ronald_. I think, among the four of us, you have the _least_ to complain about here."

And just because she was feeling malicious, she got in one last shot at Hermione. "At least Hermione has a reason to be mad"—she glanced at the older girl—"she won't have an excuse to be so condescending anymore, now that I've done something she hasn't done."

With one last meaningful look at Harry—who was still watching her closely—she turned and started on her way to the Great Hall. She figured she was probably leaving Harry to be assaulted with questions from his friends, but he could handle it. He had been quite as angry as she had been at hearing what Ron and Hermione had said, and was not likely to play nicely even with her gone down to dinner.

She hoped briefly that he would follow her down there before dinner ended, but soon forgot about him as she calmed and felt better at the prospect of regaling the day's events to her friends during the meal.

- - -

A few weeks later, Ginny walked into the Great Hall for breakfast. For once in her life, she wasn't running late in the morning, and for once she was able to take in her surroundings and fellow students as she made her way to her seat. She was about half-way to her usual spot toward the middle of the Gryffindor table when her gaze was caught by something that made her start slightly.

It appeared as though someone at the Ravenclaw table had been pointing at her, but by the time she did a double take, the boy's outstretched arm had been replaced by a whispering huddle of boys, darting their eyes between her and each other. _What the hell?_ She shook it off and kept on her way. Not being able to help glancing back at her alleged observers, she saw them staring more openly now. She checked over her shoulder, but there was no one else in the entranceway. They were definitely looking at her.

Ginny frowned. Being pointed at and whispered about was not something she was used to, and she immediately understood Harry's disdain for his fame. It certainly was unnerving.

As she approached the near end of the Gryffindor table, she was aware of people from both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw turning around to whisper and gawk at her as she passed them by. Feeling more discomfort by the second at all this unwelcome attention, Ginny quickly ran through her morning routine in her mind, in hopes of discovering some stupid, mindless thing she'd accidentally done to draw such attention to herself. She drew a blank.

By now, a few students at the Slytherin table were standing up unabashedly in order to get a better look at her. Whispers and turned heads ran up and down the other tables, including (much to her dismay) the table of her fellow Gryffindors.

She was now extremely self-conscious, and wanting nothing more than to Apparate from the room, she practically dove into her usual seat between Andy and Nadine. Across from her, Artemis and Colin had unmistakably apprehensive looks on their faces, and as Ginny quickly gazed around her house table, she noticed two things.

First, the older Gryffindor girls she knew were looking at her apologetically.

Second, the sixth and seventh year boys she counted as friends were all trying extremely hard not to make eye contact with her, while the ones she didn't know personally were staring thoughtfully at her, some openly smirking.

As she served herself some eggs and toast, she could hear the growing roar of gossip mounting at the three tables behind her.

But suddenly it stopped.

At this strange new silence, Ginny looked up at the entrance to the Great Hall and saw Cho Chang entering by herself, just as Ginny had done. And as the Ravenclaw Seeker made her way to her own seat for breakfast, Ginny was startled to hear the crescendo of whispering and see the wave of stares begin all over again. By the time Cho reached her seat, Ginny could tell the seventh year girl was feeling exactly what she had felt upon her own arrival.

Ginny could sense Andy and Nadine fidgeting on either side of her and she could feel a penetrating gaze from Kerney's direction. She got the impression that they were unwilling to break the ice before they could be certain that she wouldn't curse the entire table in retribution for whatever in the name of Merlin was going on.

Feeling all the eyes of Gryffindor on her, she looked to the right and across the table, in search of her brother Ron, or at the very least, Hermione, who would be forthcoming with an explanation.

But, as seemed to be the trend lately, she was to find no comfort there. The two Prefects were curiously absent from their usual seats, and instead Ginny locked eyes with Harry for a moment, before he quickly turned his attention to his plate, blushing. On either side of him, Dean averted his gaze to talk to Seamus, while Neville shot her a look of sympathy. She turned suddenly to Andy.

"What the hell is going on?" she demanded in low tones.

"Well—" Andy tentatively began, as though he feared she would punish the messenger for the bad news.

"Spit it out, McGrath." Her long-time friend sighed and looked at her almost guiltily. Nadine, Artemis, and Colin seemed to brace themselves for what was coming, and on instinct, Ginny couldn't help but follow suit. _Bugger. This is not going to be good_. Kerney unflinchingly maintained her knowing look.

"Well, it's like this. The seventh year boys—"

"—and most of the sixth years—" interjected Artemis.

"—Well, they all got together in an uncharacteristically united effort to rate the girls at Hogwarts according to certain . . . erm . . . categories."

"Categories," Ginny deadpanned.

"Yes."

"What kind of categories?" This was not going to be happy information.

"Perhaps it would be best if you found out right from the source," Andy said, and nodded at Nadine. Ginny turned to her right as Nadine took out a folded piece of parchment and handed it to her. With one last anxious glance at each of her friends, Ginny put her eyes down and scanned the contents.

_**Nicest**Katie Bell_

_**Smartest** Tie: Emily Zabini, Hermione Granger_

_**Best Sense of Humor**Ginny Weasley_

_**Hottest**Cho Chang_

_**Best Quidditch Player**Tie: Ginny Weasley, Jamie Bowen_

_**Most Likely to be Head Girl**Hermione Granger_

_**Most Dangerous with a Hex**Ginny Weasley_

_**Best to Take Home to Parents**Katie Bell_

_**Best Kisser** Juliet Rafferty_

_**Best Legs**Naomi Ryan_

_**Best Rack**Tie: Daphne Greengrass, Marcia McLean_

_**Best Arse**Parvati Patil_

_**Best Shag**Tie: Danielle Wade, Olivia Flint_

_**Easiest Shag**Marietta Edgecombe_

_**Most Want to Date**Ginny Weasley_

_**Most Want to Shag**Ginny Weasley_

Reading her name over and over as it came up on the list, Ginny's face burned and flushed. Her first thought when she finished was a snarky jab at Marietta—_the sneak_—followed quickly by embarrassment at the realization that most of the older boys in the school thought about her in that context. _Ew_.

On its heels came a flash of annoyance at what Ron's reaction would be to seeing her name voted first in most of the categories, but she found perverse amusement in the thought that he likely had been a participant in the poll, never imagining that his baby sister would be such a popular subject with the sixth and seventh year boys, despite the fact that she had been by far the most sought out date for Hogsmeade so far this year. She chuckled at the thought, and her friends looked confused at her amused reaction. She turned to Andy.

"So, the seventh year boys and most of the sixth year boys—"

"Yes."

"—all got together, from every house—"

"It would appear so, yes."

"—and in their collective wisdom, decided that they all want to shag me like a minx." At her blunt characterization of the situation, Andy turned bright red. Ginny barely suppressed a smirk and her other friends chuckled.

"Erm, yes." Ginny looked up thoughtfully at her friends sitting opposite her. Kerney had an expression that reeked of _I told you so_. Ginny decided to ignore her.

"You know, when Dumbledore told us at the sorting feast that the four houses need to unite together, I don't think this is quite what he had in mind." Everyone laughed. Kerney smirked and shook her head.

The rest of the Gryffindors turned and looked at them with confused expressions. Once again, Ginny had deflected her discomfort with sarcasm and managed to misdirect her peers with her acute sense of humor. While her friends—except, notably, for Kerney—were put at ease and her housemates carried on believing that she was a right good sport about the whole thing, Ginny sat there, feeling isolated and extremely uncomfortable.

It didn't help that she could feel someone's eyes on her from somewhere down the right side of the table, and she was pretty sure she could guess whose they were.

Glancing back at the list of girls, her suspicions were confirmed when the feeling stopped and was quickly followed by the loud exclamations of Ron and Hermione's arrival at the table. Noting with relief that it would soon be time for class—and thinking that she definitely did not have the patience to deal with Ron's inevitable reaction—she folded the list, stashed it and turned to Andy.

"We should probably get going." She looked across the table as she, Andy, and Nadine began to stand and gather their things for class.

"Want an escort, do you?" Kerney jabbed good-naturedly, speaking for the first time since Ginny had arrived at breakfast.

"Hardly," Ginny retorted. "Besides, consensus says that _I'm_ best with a hex," she explained sarcastically. "I'm not concerned about being assaulted." She smirked. Their group of six expanded to eight as Holden and Othello rose from their places down the table and completed the fifth year Gryffindor crew as they departed for class.

Of course, Ginny was too caught up in verbally sparring with Kerney and Andy to notice that the whole of Gryffindor table and half of the Ravenclaws were watching as she left, once again the focus of the group.

"Oy, McGrath," Ginny blurted as she consulted The List on their way back to the common room after dinner. "Olivia Flint or Danielle Wade." While Andy cringed, Nadine turned sharply to watch his reaction to the question. Ginny took note of this.

"Ahh, well—" He took too long.

"EH. Wrong. You know the rules, you have to reply spontaneously for the most honest answer. Now it's time for punishment."

"Except that, instead of thinking of my answer, I was a bit preoccupied with the thought that if I said 'Olivia' you would hex me into next week," he responded rationally. Ginny paused to consider this. "Even if I would have said Danielle, you using Olivia automatically exempted me from the time rule."

"I bet if you checked his survey it'd give you your answer," a new voice interjected. Eight fifth-year heads and bodies swiveled in unison to identify the new speaker. "Wouldn't it, McGrath?"

It was Harry. He was walking toward them, flanked by Ron and Hermione. But there was something different about his gait—Harry James Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, never swaggered when he walked. Never in his life. Well, maybe it wasn't a _swagger_, exactly, just a confidence and strength that she had never seen in him before. She wondered briefly if this was what Lily Evans had first seen in James Potter. For, while it was a bit strange to see it on Harry, it was also…. _bloody hot_.

Luckily for Ginny, Harry had addressed Andy and not her, so she had time to get her bearings.

"What are you playing at, mate?" Andy asked, slightly incredulous that Harry would blow his cover. "Trying to get a bloke killed?" Harry smirked.

"Well, maybe you shouldn't put things in writing you don't want other people to see," he replied, a knowing look in his eyes. Ginny joined Andy in wondering what Harry was playing at. Why was he having a go at Andy? What had Andy McGrath ever done to him? But before she could question the strangeness of the situation any further, yet another voice interrupted.

"I don't know if you should be pointing fingers, Potter," Michael Corner said as he strolled into view. Ginny's mind fleetingly wondered what he was doing this close to Gryffindor Tower, but forgot about it as he finished talking. "Don't think we don't know that you turned in a survey yourself."

At this, Ginny's eyebrows went up in surprise and Hermione wheeled around to scold Harry, then Ron.

"And I suppose that means you were in on it, too?" she accused Ron as the surrounding crowd snickered. Ron blushed and Harry was obviously trying not to smirk.

Ginny exchanged curious glances with Kerney and then Andy, who looked quite relieved to have the attention focused somewhere else. Ginny noticed Nadine staring intently at Andy from his other side.

"Hermione, leave them alone," Ginny urged, causing the older girl to turn around and look put out at being denied the opportunity to be self-righteous. Ginny barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes. "Look, it's not a big deal. You didn't get voted to anything unseemly, as I recall."

"But other girls did! They shouldn't be able to get away with it!" Hermione huffed.

"Speaking as one of those 'other girls,' why don't you let us stand up for ourselves?" Ginny suggested. After stealing a glance at Harry and Ron, she continued, "besides, if Harry and Andy want to shag me rotten, who am I to complain?" Harry was flushing violently, and though she could not see Andy from the front, she didn't think his light complexion would be able to hide his embarrassment either. Then she turned on her brother. "And it's not like it's a secret who _Ron_ voted for." Her satisfaction at putting them in their places almost made up for her embarrassment at breakfast, but she wasn't done.

"And Michael, what would a sixth year Ravenclaw be doing so close to Gryffindor Tower? You couldn't be lost. Come to stir up trouble, have you? Times being what they are, I don't know if you ought to be making enemies with the Boy-Who-Lived, mate," she said in a patronizingly sweet voice. "You might want to reconsider your anger, or better yet, _jealousy_. Though after all the crap Harry's had to put up with, I can't imagine why you'd be jealous of _him_." The vindictive expression of superiority Michael had worn upon his arrival quickly vanished. "Maybe we should have a look at _your_ survey."

"You know, Ginny," Kerney added, stepping up next to her friend, "I reckon we might find some interesting information if we did that."

"Bet you weren't so down on Gryffindor Quidditch when you wrote in Ginny's name for best Quidditch player, eh, Corner?" Harry added, much to Ginny's (and Ron's) surprise. Something was different about him today. He never would have recovered that quickly from embarrassment before. Hell, he never would have recovered _at all_. As Harry eyed Michael Corner, Ginny eyed him. His straightened posture and intense gaze reminded her of the subtle change she had seen in Neville back on the train at the beginning of the year.

"Hmm," Ron added, with fake thoughtfulness. "I hope I don't find out that you wrote in my sister's name for any _other_ category." He turned to his fellow male Gryffindors. "What do you think, mates? What should happen to a bloke who gets mad at his girlfriend just for winning the Quidditch Cup?" The boys all moved in around Michael, but to Ginny it seemed like they were acting more protectively than offensively. She doubted Michael had made the distinction.

"Oy, what's this?" asked Duncan Moran as he approached with his usual crew plus Katie Bell. "This Ravenclaw bloke still not get that Ginny's way out of his league?"

"I think Corner was just leaving, weren't you, mate?" Andy asked, patronizingly. He had straightened out, too. His and Harry's shoulders were back, their arms folded in consternation, and their backs straighter than she had ever seen them. For once they both looked like their full heights. Blokes like Duncan Moran and Baron Ramsey always looked formidable like this; but for these two boys it was quite a little transformation.

"Or do you need to be reminded of the way?" Colin added. _Merlin, what is going on?_ Ginny thought. Andy was one thing, but _Colin_? Threatening someone? Ginny was bewildered at the wave of confidence and testosterone that was overtaking these Gryffindor boys. Michael sort of nodded in obvious anxiety and took off down the hall. Duncan, Gabe, Katie, and Matt all turned to Ginny.

"He still bothering you, Ginny?" Duncan asked her, much more kindly than he had spoken to Michael. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Yes, Duncan, but it's not a big deal." She smiled, teasingly. "I mean, just think, in a few months we'll win the Quidditch Cup again, and he'll forget he ever liked me in the first place." The remaining tension dissolved as people laughed at her joke, and Ginny grabbed Kerney's arm and continued casually on her way toward the Fat Lady. She wanted to start back before Andy tried to talk to her. She knew that Nadine would probably not be pleased at what had transpired. And just because Ginny knew that Andy was absolutely mad for Nadine, didn't mean the raven-haired girl knew it, too.

"Ginny!" Artemis called from behind them as they arrived at the portrait.

"Tintinnabulation ," Kerney said, as Ginny turned back to the rest of the Gryffindors.

"Artemis!" she yelled back by way of answering.

"Michael Corner or Roman Keselica?" she asked, quickly drawing the attention of the rest of their housemates. Ginny rolled her eyes, but answered quickly.

"Roman, duh. Not even a question."

"C'mon, Howard, you can do better than that," Andy inserted, walking next to Nadine. "Of course she'd pick Roman over _that_ git." The fifth year girls and Katie Bell laughed as Artemis nodded to concede his point. Suddenly, Ginny was inspired. She glanced at Kerney with a wicked smile as all the Gryffindors piled into the common room. Once they were all inside, she turned to the group.

"Alright McGrath, do-over from earlier." Andy smirked, which was his first mistake. After almost five years of friendship, he should have been suspicious at the look in Ginny's eyes. But alas, he must have been distracted by the girl at his side. "Nadine Ryan or Ginny Weasley." Andy's face blanched and he looked down as he mumbled his answer. Not noticing the utterly panicked look on Nadine's face, Ginny stepped forward with exaggerated thoughtfulness, hand to her ear.

"What was that, Andy? I couldn't quite hear you," she said a little more loudly than she needed to. He looked up quickly, surprising Ginny, and with such intensity, that Ginny's good humor was momentarily arrested.

"Nadine Ryan," he replied, slowly and evenly, never breaking his eye contact with Ginny. He sent an absolutely smoldering glance to an equally surprised Nadine, and made his way up to the boys dormitory. Ginny was suddenly faint with jealousy—she wished a boy would look at _her_ like that. Kerney looked intrigued, Artemis looked shocked (though Ginny couldn't tell if it was at the intensity of the way Andy had said Nadine's name, or at the idea that anyone had chosen someone over her), and Nadine looked like a deer in headlights.

But Andy had stopped on the stairs and turned around. "Right then. Ginny!" he yelled from the landing. All the Gryffindors swiveled in unison.

"Yeah?" she answered, stepping toward the stairs.

"Andy McGrath or Harry Potter?" he yelled, satisfied smirk on his features, arms crossed across his chest. Ginny froze. Remembering the time rule she quickly mumbled an answer. "Not so fun when it's you put on the spot, is it Weasley?"

Ginny looked up at Andy apologetically. She hadn't thought about the embarrassment it could cause him when she'd propositioned him with Nadine's name, she'd just been thinking about how to make Nadine feel better. Frick. Ginny knew that Andy wasn't vindictive enough to make her repeat her answer.

She watched as her friend—_would he still be her friend after this?_—turned and continued on his way up to his room. Impulsively, Ginny grabbed Nadine and shoved her up the stairs after him.

- - -


	11. The Aftermath

Many thanks to J.J.O'Robert, Legit, Tronishere, voided, Ginny 22, Ennui-EAF, lilyep08, HarryGinnyfan23, and Sludge for their great reviews and helpful comments. Hope you all (and all thelurkers) enjoy the chapter!

**CHAPTER 10**

**The Aftermath**

Ginny had staked out a spot on the floor at the end of the hallway that led from the stairs to the fifth year boys dormitory. She was just out of sight of the common room, but at the opposite end of the corridor from the door of the room in which Nadine and Andy had barricaded themselves. She didn't want them to think she was trying to listen in.

It had been about two hours since she'd acted so ridiculously about the question game, and she was starting to rethink her decision to sit in vigil outside of Andy's room. But she wanted to be the next person he saw. She needed to apologize.

Her attention was distracted as she heard footsteps coming up the boys' stairs. Every once in a while she'd hear someone coming up, but usually they just kept on going up to whatever floor they lived on. Some didn't even notice she was sitting there.

But this one did.

"Ginny?" Harry asked, as he stopped his progress up the stairs and came around the corner to see her.

"Oh, hey Harry," she replied sleepily. It was swiftly approaching bedtime, and she hadn't even started her homework yet. She rubbed her eyes, not unlike a small child. Harry smiled, but she didn't see.

"What are you doing?" he asked, with genuine curiosity. Ginny sighed and laid herself down on the floor.

"Waiting for the McGrath and Ryan worlds to finished colliding so I can apologize to my best friend for completely humiliating him in front of the entire House and the girl he's madly in love with." Her eyes were closed as she said this. Harry smiled again, and again she didn't see it.

"What was that game you were playing, anyway?" he asked.

"The question game," she answered simply, eyes still shut.

"And how does one play the question game?" he returned.

"Well, say you and I were playing," she began, finally opening her eyes to look at him. He was standing directly above her head, looking down at her from six feet up, but moved to sit down next to her. Her face shifted with him as he moved.

"I would randomly blurt out two girls' names, and you have to pick the one that you find most attractive, or the one you'd prefer to snog, or the one you find less revolting. It's a wonderful game. And you have to answer immediately, so the other people playing know you're not lying. If you don't answer right away, you get punishment, which means you have to do whatever dare the questioner gives you." Ginny's eyes closed again when her explanation was complete. Harry nodded to himself as he went through the rules in his head.

"So, what happened earlier," he began—she resisted the urge to sneak a glance at him, "was that you asked Andrew which girl, between you and Nadine Ryan, he found to be . . ." He trailed off. _Dork_.

"Yes, I forced him to reveal whether he thought Nadine or I was more desirable."

"I wouldn't have answered you," Harry admitted.

"I wouldn't have asked you," she countered, opening her eyes again, looking directly into his for a beat, and sitting up. She took out her ponytail and made it up again neater. "But Andy knows the rules, and he knows that I play for keeps. He knows that if he hadn't answered I would have dared him to kiss her."

"Really?"

"Yeah. He's been arse over elbows in love with her since we came to Hogwarts, and I know she fancies him, too. You were too busy having a pissing contest with Michael Corner to notice—not that I didn't enjoy it, mind—but Nadine was practically having a breakdown when you kept implying that Andy fancied me. She's always thought he did, but he doesn't. He's all hers," she finished, smiling to herself.

"So you felt put upon to relieve Nadine's insecurity."

"I suppose, yes. I didn't think it out way ahead of time, if that's what you're asking." Ginny was thoughtful for a moment. "I was thoroughly enjoying the little scene unfolding between you and Andy and Michael, and then I turn around and see Nadine looking like she was about to burst into tears. And there was absolutely no reason for her to, because Andy doesn't like me, he likes her. _A lot_. So it seemed like the logical thing to do."

"That's actually rather nice of you," Harry observed, sounding somewhat perplexed at his own conclusion. "Except for the whole part where you had to humiliate your other friend to do it." Ginny cringed and Harry laughed at her. Hearing him laugh lessened her distress a little.

"Yeah, well, we'll see if he ever speaks to me again. Then we'll know how nice it was." They sat in silence for a while. Ginny was considering all the horrible reactions Andy could possibly have to her actions.

"And then he asked you to choose between him and me." Harry's voice was low, but clear. Ginny was grateful that the lighting in the dormitory hallways wasn't very good at night. Her face was so hot that she knew she was blushing furiously. By this point, they were both sitting shoulder-to-shoulder against the wall, Harry Indian-style, Ginny with her knees up near her chest. Ginny was leaning her head back against the wall.

"Yes. The retribution I so sorely deserved." He was quiet for a few minutes before he spoke again.

"So?"

"So what?" she returned.

"So, who did you say? Me or Andy?" Ginny swiveled her head to face him, startled that he had actually asked the awkward question that normal people would have ignored to save each other the mutual mortification that was sure to follow if they actually talked about it.

But they weren't exactly normal people, were they?

Only, Ginny hadn't thought on the fact that turning to face the boy next to her would mean that he might be looking at her, too. She quickly faced forward again. Regardless of whether he could see it, she could feel another roaring blush climbing up her neck.

"I said you, of course." Her stomach was in chaos, her chest felt full, and her heart was hammering against her sternum like it was going to explode.

"Me?" he replied, with genuine surprise. "You picked me over him?" His voice was barely above a whisper.

"Of course I did," she replied with a small sigh, leaning her head back against the wall and closing her eyes again.

"Why?" Ginny couldn't help but smile in the midst of her own embarrassment. He really did not have the faintest idea how overwhelmingly attractive he was to her. And she loved that about him. She leaned her head over rest on his shoulder, waited with baited breath until she'd counted to seven in her head, and relaxed when she felt his arm slide around her shoulders.

"Andy's like my brother. Ew. It would be like choosing Ron or Fred. _Ew_." Ginny shivered at such appalling thoughts.

"You told me you didn't need any more brothers," he recalled.

"Well, with six Weasleys and probably two McGraths, I think I'm pretty well stocked with them, don't you?"

"So, I'm not one."

"No. You, I can safely say, will never be my brother."

"Is that a good thing?" he asked. Ginny sighed heavily. What was one more in a long string of confirmations that he didn't fancy her? Apparently still depressing as hell.

"I'd like to think so," she said with little joy in her tone. "But I suppose it's up to you."

"What do you mean?" he asked. Well, at least he was still holding up his end of the conversation. Like with so many other things recently, he would have been a wreck if this had occurred the year before.

"Andy's one of my best friends, and he's like my brother in the sense that I have never and will never (and could never) think of him romantically. He's not annoyingly overprotective like Ron, Percy, or Bill. He looks out for me, but he knows I can handle myself and make my own mistakes, like George, and Charlie, and Fred."

"But me?"

"You're my friend. You know things about me that no one else does. I can tell you things that I would never tell my brothers because they would freak out if I did. You are so matter-of-fact about so many things that they could never be calm about. You know about Voldemort, and you don't hover around me when I play Quidditch, and you don't tell me that I shouldn't do things because I'm a girl, or because I'm the baby."

"And that's how you want me to be?"

"Very much, yes." She realized something, just then, something of potentially magnificent proportions. "You don't treat me like Ron's little sister anymore."

"Well, I suppose you're not." He paused. "I mean, of course you are, but . . ." He trailed off again.

"But what?" she prompted quietly.

"I don't really know," he replied honestly.

"Okay," she said, basking in his small admission too much to care that he couldn't explain himself. She thought she had a pretty good idea of what he meant anyway.

"Really?" he asked, incredulously. No doubt Hermione would never have let him get away with such an insufficient answer. But, as she thankfully reminded herself, she was not Hermione.

"Really."

"Wow." Ginny giggled. "What?"

"It's just," she began, turning to get a look at him. "You really need to know that Hermione is not the best example of what a girl is like." Harry chuckled.

"I think I know it in an abstract sense, but my instincts are so used to dealing with her, that I guess I forget sometimes. I'm not _so_ bad, am I?" he asked with a tiny bit of anxiety.

"No, you're not. Usually you're a rather good sport when you hang around me. I just find that I have to remind you sometimes that I'm not going to bite your head off, or interrogate you, or tell you to study; that I'm not her." She returned to leaning on his shoulder.

"Trust me. I could never confuse you with Hermione."

"Good."

He went quiet again, and Ginny could feel him shifting a bit as if he was going to speak again, when a new voice broke through their quiet conversation.

"What's this?" Andy asked, with not a little sarcasm. At hearing his voice, Ginny turned to face him and scrambled to her feet. He put his hands up as if to calm and slow her down.

Nadine shot her a thankful smile from behind Andy, before venturing to speak herself.

"Andrew, I'll see you tomorrow. I'm going to bed." Andy smiled and nodded in pleasant acquiescence.

"Okay. 'Night Nadine." A small smile threatened to creep up onto his face.

"Night Harry. Goodnight, Ginny," she offered. Harry and Ginny responded in kind.

"How are you, Harry?" Andy asked. Harry had a much different demeanor from the one he had worn earlier when he was in the middle of the corridor putting Andy on the spot about the survey. Then he actually put out his hand for Andy to take. Andy looked pleasantly surprised.

"Pretty good, actually," he answered as they shook hands. "I better get to bed"—he shot Ginny an encouraging glance—"give you two a chance to talk." Ginny's eyes were wide. It really did look like the new bolder, more frank Harry was taking over. Ginny's expression of surprise transformed into one of barely concealed triumph. She had adored the Harry of old, but that boy didn't quite set her on fire like this one had lately.

"Night then, mate," Andy offered. Harry smiled and nodded.

"Night Andrew. Goodnight, Ginny." He looked at her for an extended moment, and then turned to walk up the stairs to the room he shared with the rest of the sixth year boys. Ginny watched him leave and was still watching long after he was out of sight. Andy turned to look at her.

"We're quite a pair, you and I," he said, turning his whole body to face her. He crossed his arms over his chest and looked at her thoughtfully.

"Hmm?" she asked, turning back around at the sound of his voice. He smirked.

"Look at us. Both ruined forever. If we don't end up with the bloke and the girl we fell in love with in first year, I don't know what'll happen to us." Ginny smiled at the olive branch. She really did adore this seventh brother of hers.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I could always marry one of those rich Slytherins I'm friends with." He shook his head and chuckled.

"Yes, you probably could," he replied with the familiar, quiet smile that she found so much comfort in. It made Ginny suddenly remember why she had been out there waiting for him for so long.

"Oh, Andy, I'm so sorry! I can't believe I did that to you," she gushed out. "Nadine just looked so miserable and I did the first thing I could think of to make her feel better. I didn't stop to think that in making her less upset, I would be upsetting you instead. It was impulsive, and mean, and I'm so sorry." Andy did the most brilliant thing he could have done at that moment, and hugged his close friend of nearly five years.

"I forgive you, Ginny," he replied. "I understand why you did it, and, considering that I don't like to see Nadine upset either, I can't say that I really blame you." Ginny nodded into his shoulder as she returned his affectionate embrace.

"So," she began as they pulled apart. "Where do you stand with her, after all that?" Ginny asked tentatively.

"We're going to see if we can handle being nice to each other. If being friends works out, then maybe we'll see if we can handle something more."

"Andrew O'Connell McGrath, if you don't ask that girl to Hogsmeade, I will string you up and lock you in a room with Filch and all the Hufflepuff third years!" He laughed at her demand and nodded.

"Rest assured, I have every intention of doing so." Damn straight, he did. The third-year Hufflepuffs were notoriously obsessed with Andy-the-heartthrob. She smiled.

"Okay."

"So."

"So."

"You and Harry."

"What about me and Harry," she returned suspiciously, restating his words more than asking them.

"He looked like you two had come to an understanding about something," Andy observed, with not a little insinuation.

"The only thing we established was that he is not my brother, and that I am not Hermione. And actually, we kind of already had that conversation a few months ago. So no progress, really." Andy examined her with a somewhat knowing look on his face. It reminded her eerily of the Kernel.

"Well, then, perhaps he realized something on his own," Andy added, giving her a significant look. With one last squeeze of her arm, he turned and went to bed, leaving Ginny to think about what he had said.

-----------

Fresh from making up with her best friend, Ginny decided to stage a coup.

If the blokes in the school could engage in this ridiculous activity as some unconscious effort to distract themselves from the horrors that were going on outside the safety of the school, then why couldn't the girls indulge themselves, too? Not to mention it had the additional enticement of being sweet, sweet revenge.

She wrote down her plan on a self-replicating note and passed it on to every girl in all of her classes. They, in turn, passed it on to every girl they saw. Soon the word was out: fifth, sixth, and seventh year girls were meeting in the Room of Requirement at seven that night. Even if the blokes realized what was going on, they still wouldn't be able to do anything about it until it was over.

Walking up onto the stage that the room had so perfectly created, Ginny cast a _Sonorus_ and said, "Hello" to get everyone's attention. The girls quieted and looked at her. Ginny raised her eyebrows and smirked when she saw that Hermione had deigned to join in the fray, sitting in the front row (of course). She wondered what sort of excuse she had given Harry and Ron to sneak off and come here.

"What's this all about, then?" called a girl from the back.

"Glad you asked," Ginny replied, pulling "the List" out of her pocket and holding it up for all of them to see. "I'm sure you're all by now aware that the blokes in our years decided to show a bit of school spirit and unification in the form of a mass survey."

A murmur of acknowledgement went through the crowd.

"I thought that perhaps the ladies ought to make the same sort of effort to unify," Ginny said, smirking.

"You mean like our own version of a survey?" Nadine Ryan asked, just loud enough for Ginny to hear.

"I mean that exactly," Ginny said, waving to the multiple desks that lined that fantastic room. "I propose that we fill out our own version of their survey, and see how the blokes rank up." That murmur of acknowledgment changed into a murmur of excitement. "After you fill out your anonymous survey, drop it in the slot in the desk. The room will add up the totals and after all the surveys are in, we'll each receive our very own List."

There was a shifting in the room as each girl tried to reach a desk. The room accommodated them accordingly, creating new desks where there was a lack, including one right in front of Ginny.

"Feel free to suggest any category that you feel ought to be added," Ginny finished, ending her spell and sitting on her new desk to look with satisfaction over the heads of the girls in front of her.

"Ginny, I don't know about this," Hermione said, stepping onto the stage with a survey in one hand and a quill in the other.

"Don't know about what?" Ginny asked, picking up her own survey and placing it on her lap.

"This could turn out really poorly. People could get hurt," Hermione said.

"Then they should have thought about it before they made their List," Ginny replied.

"You're splitting the school just as the house distinctions used to," Hermione scolded. "Only now it's between male and female."

"I really don't think one little survey will be that damaging to male/female relationships at Hogwarts," Ginny said. "I mean, look at Marietta Edgecombe. She's been asked out by more blokes since the survey came out than ever before."

Hermione harrumphed in response and Ginny looked down at her survey, only to have her attention pulled up when one of the youngest girls in the room called out.

"What about something like 'Most Likely to Defeat You-Know-Who'?"

Ginny stared at her. Hermione did too.

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, trying not to betray how wary she was of the suggestion.

"Well, don't you think we ought to acknowledge him a bit more than just saying he's the best Quidditch player?" the girl asked. Several of her friends around her nodded.

"Who? Harry?" Hermione asked, sounding as shocked and strangely proud as Ginny felt.

"It's true," said a different girl. "He vanquished You-Know-Who when he was a baby. Probably saved all our lives."

"And in his first year there was that business with the Sorcerer's Stone. He bested You-Know-You to save the school," a seventh year added, giving a slightly skewed account of what happened.

"He killed the basilisk and saved Ginny," Lavender Brown said. Well, that was true.

"He went to the Ministry to protect a weapon and ended up living again." _And if only they knew what that had cost him_. Ginny felt her chest tighten at the thought of Sirius.

"And there was that business with the Tri-Wizard tournament," one girl said, looking at her friends for support. They nodded, remembering the interview that they weren't allowed to read the year before. "He never changed his story. Not once."

"He brought Cedric's body back," Cho Chang added last. And silence fell over the assembled girls as they all looked at the 'hottest' girl in school to see her staring at the stage, obviously determined not to cry. Ginny saw a movement behind Cho and saw that it was Daphne Greengrass walking forward to stand beside Cho, offering her support with a single physical gesture.

"We owe him something more than Best Quidditch Player," Padma Patil finished. Ginny swallowed hard, trying to keep down the lump in her throat. How she wished Harry could hear these words, hear and believe them. How she wished he knew what he meant to the Wizarding World and even his fellow students. Hermione, Ginny could see, was blinking rather rapidly.

"What do you suggest?" Ginny finally asked.

"A dedication to Harry?" a Hufflepuff proposed.

"A thank-you to him?"

"What about a category?" asked Gretchen Ramsey. "Something like Bloke We Trust Most With Our Lives?"

"Or," suggested Kerney, "Boy-We-Can't-Live-Without? Literally."

Her idea took hold immediately, causing the whole group to think it over. Then girls began nodding and soon it was an official category. Ginny definitely saw Pansy Parkinson scowling during this discussion, but Ginny had no doubt that her fear of Gretchen Ramsey and a room full of girls beside her was greater than her desire to voice her disapproval of thanking Harry for anything he had done.

Soon thereafter, all the surveys were submitted. Ginny explained that everyone would receive their Lists in twenty-two minutes and that they might as well head back to their common rooms. The girls began filing out, Hermione taking charge and running the bottleneck at the doorway in such an efficient manner that Ginny was almost glad for her need to control every situation. Almost.

Ginny remained on the stage, sitting on the edge, elbows on her knees and chin in her hands.

Walking out, Katie Bell came up to Ginny to tell her what an excellent idea this girl's List was. Ginny smiled at her, though the entire mood of the meeting had sobered toward the end. Ginny liked Katie. She'd been good friends with her brothers and had often visited the Burrow for some pick-up Quidditch.

"You know, Katie, if you put you and me together, we'd apparently be the perfect girl," Ginny joked. Katie smiled.

"It's you they all want to date," Katie said.

"Well, sure, but that's only because they want in my pants. You're the one they want to bring home to Mum and Dad," Ginny said, giving an exaggerated sigh and frown. "I'm just not parent material, I guess."

Katie smiled again, turning to look at the almost-empty room.

"It meant a lot to me," Katie said, looking at the places where the girls had stood, "to hear the way those girls talked about Harry."

Ginny nodded, wishing Katie could be the type of person to laugh at everything and take nothing seriously. Then they could have avoided talking about this emotional subject.

"I've known him for six years, Ginny, and he's never once commented on the burden he bears. He simply accepts it," Katie said. Ginny, of course, _had_ heard him comment on it. But she couldn't disagree that the boy simply accepted it. "He's never even considered a career in Quidditch. He's so good at it and he loves it. He could become a professional, but I asked him once if he was talking to scouts. He looked at me, surprised, and said the only career he ever really considered was being an Auror."

"Well, that's Harry," Ginny said, shrugging. She was now feeling vaguely uncomfortable about adding the special category for Harry. Of all the things Harry Potter might appreciate, being singled out for the millionth time because of the scar on his forehead was not one of them.

"It is, isn't it?" Katie said. "Taking the difficult job over the one that could make him so happy."

_Avoiding the spotlight and coming in at the end to save them all. He's the lynchpin, _Ginny thought, remembering Sirius's words from so long ago. Now she was worried about his reaction to yet another public reference to the life he couldn't fix or control.

Katie shook her head, and Ginny remembered something her mother once told her when Ginny asked her about her brothers. Molly Weasley had talked about destiny and pain, and how some people are willing to take up more responsibility than they need to in order that others can live carefree lives.

"I'm glad he has his own category," Katie said, lifting the almost-depressing mood in the room as she smiled. Ginny wished she could smile like that, wished she could agree with her. "And if you promise not to mention it to anyone, I'll tell you that I think he's in the running for a couple other titles as well."

"I'm the very best secret keeper you'll ever find," Ginny said, trying to return to joking. "For instance, I knew you and George saw each other for two months last year before the Great Weasley Escape."

Katie blushed, but still managed to smile. "You knew about that?"

"I'm a little sister with big ears," Ginny said, shrugging and smiling kindly. She certainly would not have minded if George had kept on seeing Katie for the rest of his life.

"Well, all right, then," Katie said, heading to the door and waving to Ginny. "Night, Ginny."

"Night, Katie," Ginny said, sitting on the edge of the stage and waving back.

And soon it was just Hermione, Ginny, Kerney, and Luna sitting in the Room of Requirement, which had shrunk to accommodate them, including couches, one of which Ginny sat on as she waited for the List to appear. Luna sat beside her.

"No one who knows Harry said anything," Luna noted, in her list-checking style of conversation that Ginny liked so much.

"No," Ginny agreed, strangely glad about that, about the fierce devotion that Harry unwittingly commanded in his friends. Perhaps she wasn't the only one who was anxious about Harry's reaction.

"You didn't fill out your survey," Luna said.

"No," Ginny said. "I turned it in blank."

"You what?" Hermione asked.

Ginny looked at her. "I try not to make a practice of writing down my most personal thoughts."

"I didn't mean to imply that—" Hermione cut herself off, looking at the three fifth years in front of her. "I suppose I ought to be getting back to the Common Room."

"You can stay if you like, Hermione," Kerney offered. Ginny looked at her, barely remembering that they were both prefects and had probably gotten to know each other a bit this year. But Hermione was looking at Ginny, not Kerney Scott. Ginny looked back at her, quirking an eyebrow. Hermione came closer, sitting next to Ginny and looking around as though to make sure Luna and Kerney weren't listening. They took the hint and began to talk together. That irritated Ginny. What right did Hermione have to make Ginny's friends turn away?

"I know sometimes we don't always think alike," Hermione began, "but I wanted to let you know that I think this survey idea was actually quite good."

"I'm glad to have your approval," Ginny said sarcastically. Hermione narrowed her eyes, looked ready to say something, but stopped herself and said something different.

"Despite what you may think, Harry is my best friend," Hermione said. "I'd die for him."

Ginny looked at Hermione. Why was she bringing that up?

"I consider him my brother and what everyone said about him—that made me really very proud, and very glad for him," she went on. _Okay_. "I know he's talking to you more now, and just—I'll try to back off. It's only that he sometimes needs prodding in order to get moving, you know? I know that Ron and I can't be there for him always," her voice seemed to get a little nervous there, "pushing him, and I know that sometimes we're rather exclusive, but—"

She cut herself off, staring at Ginny as if begging her to understand. Ginny suddenly wondered when Ron and Hermione had started snogging behind Harry's back.

Ginny wanted to take Hermione by the shoulders, take her by the shoulders and shake her until she got it through her brilliant, but appallingly thick head that Harry had never needed prodding—he'd never needed people nagging him with questions as if his emotional health was the subject of their next Care of Magical Creatures test. He'd needed a person he could trust, someone who he wouldn't have to explain _every bloody thing_ to, because they already understood. But she didn't do any of that. She could throttle Hermione and yell at her for half an hour, but the girl would probably never understand.

"Hermione," Ginny said, feeling somehow the strange need to comfort Hermione. The girl was obviously worried—though whether it was just for Harry's mental state, or the fact that she was entrusting Ginny with what she must have seen as his caretaking, Ginny couldn't tell.

"There's something about the three of you—Harry, Ron, and you—that's special. When the three of you work together good things happen: the Sorcerer's Stone is saved, the D.A. is created, the Tri-wizard Tournament's won, the basilisk is identified and the Chamber of Secrets found."

And it was true. As close as Ginny had finally become with Harry, she knew his friendship with her would always be different—separate—from the one he shared with Ron and Hermione. Hermione looked at Ginny and countered.

"But there's also something about _you_ and Harry that's special. When you're together, he changes and becomes . . . I don't know, stronger somehow. Bolder. You can make him do things and see things that I can't. I don't know how you do it." Ginny was slightly shocked at the sad tone that laced Hermione's words. The other girl shrugged somewhat dejectedly. "I don't really know how to explain it except to say that you're good for him."

Ginny was embarrassed and confused. Why would Hermione say something like that?

Well, technically Ginny knew why. Hermione always intervened in people's lives, regardless of the feelings of those people, no matter if those people just wanted to be bloody left alone. If Hermione Granger believed she knew what was best for you, she wouldn't hesitate to consider your perspective. She just did what she thought should be done, like telling a girl she was "good" for a certain boy.

Girls who were desperately in love with brooding, complicated, 16-year old saviors-of-the-world got to a point where they were somewhat comfortable with the fact that the boy savior would never feel the same way. Got to a point where they actually pondered what it would be like to date their Potions partner or the Head Boy.

And here was Hermione-the-sodding-administrator-of-the-world spoiling her piece of mind by saying she was "good for him."

The only times Ginny had ever seen Harry act more "bold" than usual was when he took the twins up on their offer of a chance to talk to Sirius, when he gave the Quidditch team their pep talk before the first match of the year, and just days ago when he had come sauntering down the corridor to have a go at Andy and Michael. The first one may have been her doing, seeing as she had orchestrated the twins' offer in the first place, but she certainly couldn't be credited with causing the other two.

Ginny absent-mindedly shook her head. She didn't want to have this conversation, and wanted to have it with Hermione even less.

But she was saved from further conversation as the girl's List appeared in the air in front of her. She grabbed it, seeing Hermione do the same, and read the list with not a little bit of shock. The sixth years had cleaned up and the Slytherins had grabbed quite a few titles (including—_Ew_—Draco Malfoy for 'Best Arse'—_Ew_), but the best thing about the list was that Andy and Harry looked to be the real winners. Ha!

_**Nicest**Neville Longbottom_

_**Smartest** Theodore Nott _

_**Best Sense of Humor**Seamus Finnegan_

_**Best Quidditch Player**Harry Potter_

_**Most Handsome**Baron Ramsey_

_**Most Likely to be Head Boy**Quentin Crowe_

_**Most Dangerous with a Hex**Harry Potter_

_**Most Likely to Seriously Commit**tie: Ron Weasley & Andrew McGrath_

_**Best to Take Home to Parents**Andrew McGrath _

_**Best Date** tie: Michael Corner & Baron Ramsey_

_**Best Dancer**Baron Ramsey_

_**Best Kisser** Duncan Moran_

_**Best Body**Adam Skillman_

_**Best Arse**Draco Malfoy _

_**Most Want to Date**Harry Potter_

_**Most Want to Shag**Andrew McGrath_

Boy-We-Couldn't-Live-Without (literally)Harry Potter 

"_Malfoy!_" Kerney shrieked. Ginny and Luna laughed at the uncharacteristically stunned reaction of their friend. Hermione actually looked to shocked to speak.

"_RON!_" came a few seconds later, in a strained yell. The other three girls doubled over with laughter.

"How 'bout them Slytherins, eh?" Ginny asked once they had all calmed down a bit. They had all returned to perusing their copies of the new List.

"Can't really argue with the choices, though, can we?" the Kernel observed. Ginny and Luna nodded, while Hermione only looked up to see the reactions of the other girls. "I mean, except for Draco getting—"

"_Don't_ say it again," Ginny cut her off. All four girls shared a look and shuddered collectively at the thought. Ginny tried to revive the conversation. "Otherwise, though, Kerney's right."

"Duncan Moran is the best kisser?" Hermione asked no one in particular. She shot Ginny a significant look.

"What?" Ginny challenged back. Hermione attempted to shrug innocently, but Ginny wasn't buying it.

"Well, you went on a date with him, didn't you?" the older girl clarified.

"I did, but I didn't kiss him."

"Really?" Hermione asked, genuinely curious.

"Yes, Hermione, really. He's not a bad bloke to chat with in the hall, but I was never trying to be his girlfriend." Ginny glanced at Kerney. "I only said yes in the first place because he caught me off guard in the corridor." Kerney snorted in amusement and Luna smiled. Ginny loved that Hermione was so out of the loop when it came to her life. Hermione's eyebrows were slightly raised. "And then he went and acted like a complete git while we were in Hogsmeade." She wondered if Harry had related the story to Hermione.

But by Hermione's display of increased curiosity, Ginny came to the conclusion that she didn't know a thing about how Harry had unwittingly sat in on their date. This was a most interesting development—Harry had been concealing more than their extra Potions sessions from his two best mates.

"I don't know about Adam Skillman for best body," the Kernel inserted to break up the strange staring contest that had arisen between Ginny and Hermione as they silently sorted through their thoughts.

"True," Luna agreed. "I should think they all meant to put Baron Ramsey, but figured he would already be winning in other categories. It's not as if Adam would have won for best Quidditch player either."

"Amen to that," Ginny blurted out in low tones before she could stop herself. "Baron's a freaking Adonis." Her hand flew to her mouth immediately, her eyes wide. Kerney and Luna laughed riotously. Hermione was back to her previous look of astonishment.

"Are you really friends with the Head Boy?" Hermione asked her, skepticism permeating her tone. Ginny rolled her eyes, sure that Hermione's interest in the matter extended only as long as Baron Ramsey held that particular title.

_Oh, Baron_, Ginny thought sadly. He and Gretchen still hadn't returned to school after their parents had been killed. Devon had informed her that the two of them were getting their family's affairs in order, which was no small task for such a wealthy and prominent line.

"Yes, I am friends with him," Ginny replied, voiced laced with some of the sadness of her thoughts. "I can't imagine what he and Gretchen are going through." Luna walked over and sat next to Ginny, leaning her head on the redhead's shoulder. Ginny relaxed slightly at her friend's gesture. Hermione didn't seem to have heard past her confirmation of being Baron's friend.

"And you're pretty friendly with your new Potions partner, aren't you?" Hermione asked, with not a little accusation in her voice. Luna's head came up, and Kerney and Ginny shared a wary glance.

"What are you getting at, Hermione? Yes, I'm friends with Baron and Theo, and I get along well with Gretchen, and Quentin, and Holly, and the Skillmans. What's it to you?" Hermione was quiet, but clearly taking careful note of all that Ginny had just revealed.

Ginny felt that Devon would appreciate not being included. It was advantageous to both she and Ginny that no one but Harry (and apparently Theo) knew of their friendship outside the strictly academic partnership they had shared in Potions class.

"Theodore Nott's father is a Death Eater," she returned severely, as if that explained everything.

"Sirius Black's entire family was evil, including his brother and his cousin, who were Death Eaters." Ginny was getting angry at the shallow insinuation the other girl was making. "What's your point?" While not yelling, her voice was steel.

Hermione's countenance was battling between realization that Ginny was quite right about Sirius' relations and suspicious anger that Ginny would defend a Slytherin whose father was a Death Eater. Kerney and Luna were glancing back and forth between the two girls.

"Hermione," Ginny finally began when it looked as though Hermione was too mixed up to speak any time soon. "You are the one who's always after Harry and my brother about making friends with the Slytherins and you stood there in your compartment on the Hogwarts Express scolding us for being mean to _Draco Malfoy_, of all people, the sodding prince of the Death Eaters, because of where we saw him that morning. Are you really going to stand there and tell me off for doing exactly what you were telling the boys to do?"

Hermione opened and closed her mouth several times, as if she were going to say something and then thought better of it.

"I just think you should be careful." Ginny wished she could throw Harry's working friendship with Devon in Hermione's face, but couldn't. It would be revealing far too much just for a little immediate gratification.

"I am careful, Hermione. I'm not stupid, you know." _Indeed_. Ginny had to bite back a smirk as she recalled the fact that she was now in three of Hermione's N.E.W.T. classes. The expression on Hermione's face told Ginny that she was remembering the very same thing. _Heh_. "And I have a little experience with trust issues, if you remember."

"And you have this thing with Professor Wrightman," Hermione added, as if she had not heard Ginny's last words. "I don't trust that woman." It took everything in Ginny's self-control to keep from snorting in derision.

_Of course_, Hermione didn't like Professor Wrightman. Hermione couldn't suck up to her—or rather, she could, but their professor wasn't buying it. Of all people, Gertrude Wrightman knew very well the importance of experience and practicality relative to theory, a lesson that Hermione had yet to learn. Again, Ginny bristled at knowing a lot more about a particular subject than Hermione and not being able to rub her face in it. Well, on _this_ perhaps she could say something vague.

"Look, Hermione, if you don't trust her, that's fine. It makes you a hypocrite, but that's fine. And you can distrust me, if you want, even though it's completely ridiculous. I really don't care what you think of me. But I know that Harry trusts me, and I trust Gertrude Wrightman. Harry and I both know things about her that you would never imagine. So why don't you do us all a favor, and wait to be judgmental until you know the whole story."

Hermione's expression had become one of perpetual shock. After they had vocally disagreed so many times in the past year, Ginny wondered at how Hermione could still not see it coming.

Their bitter discussion was interrupted as the door to the Room of Requirement opened, causing all four girls to swivel in the direction of the entrance, each one quickly stashing her copy of the new List in the nearest pocket.

"What are you lot doing up here?" Harry asked, climbing in with Ron right behind him. Herpo was peeking out of Harry's right pants pocket.

"Nothing," Ginny and Hermione answered at the same time. They shot each other startled looks at having blurted out their answers simultaneously. The only real difference between their responses was that while Ginny looked completely composed in the throes of a blatant lie, Hermione had guilt and concealment written all over her face. Harry smirked at the scene before him. Ron, unsurprisingly, looked puzzled.

"It must have been a pretty significant 'nothing' for Hermione to lie about it," Harry observed, helping Herpo out of his pocket. Ginny rolled her eyes at Hermione's shameful inexperience at fibbing. Ron looked genuinely impressed at Harry's ability to detect falsehoods. Herpo scampered over to Ginny, who picked him up.

"Fine," Ginny conceded, determined to speak before Hermione did. She had a feeling that Hermione would try to hide the fact that she had been talking about Harry behind his back. She often did that when she was attempting to run someone else's life.

"Hermione thinks I can't be trusted because I'm friends with too many Slytherins, including but not limited to my various Potions partners, the Head Boy, and our Defense professor." Ron looked appalled at this admission. Well, that was Ron when it came to Slytherins. Harry nodded in confirmation.

Ginny had a hunch that nodding was the only thing keeping him from smiling—or worse, laughing. His eyes had brightened somewhat, and experience told Ginny that he must be enjoying this immensely. No, laughing would not have gone over well with Hermione just now.

"It's okay, Hermione. Ginny has assured me, in no uncertain terms, that she is not going to marry Baron Ramsey," Harry began, with a completely straight face. Ginny couldn't help but burst out laughing. Luna laughed as well, since Ginny had related the story to her when they returned from the Christmas holiday. The boy was bloody brilliant. Hermione looked very confused at his answer, and then very put out.

"It's not _funny_, Harry!" she answered urgently. Harry's face softened. Not the route Ginny would have taken, as it only encouraged the girl, but then, Hermione _was_ his best friend.

"Believe me, Hermione. I know very well how funny it's not. But I promise you that I am not concerned about Ginny's various relationships with people from Slytherin. The Ramseys' parents were just murdered by Death Eaters on Christmas Day," he reminded her, causing her face to pale as if to demonstrate that she had forgotten that fact. It made Ginny angry. "I doubt we'll have to worry about Baron and Gretchen becoming Death Eaters. Professor Wrightman knew my mother," he continued, with a glance at Ginny.

They were meeting with Professor Wrightman on Saturday afternoon after their Quidditch match against Slytherin to discuss what Ginny had seen in the Pensieve, though Ginny had still not told Harry anything other than that there were some things he needed to know.

"And I don't know much about Theo Nott, other than that he is very good at Potions and doesn't like to be called 'Theodore.'" Another glance at Ginny. She had shared with him her utter surprise in getting acquainted with her new Potions partner in the course of grilling Devon about the situation during one of their recent Potions sessions.

"His dad is a Death Eater, isn't he?" Ron offered, speaking for the first time.

"Yes, but we have it on good authority that he hates both of his parents, so I doubt that's going to be a particularly attractive life path for him." Ginny smiled, but straightened it out when Hermione started to turn toward her.

"Who is this 'good authority'?" Hermione asked, insistent on wanting to find out what Ginny and Harry weren't telling her and Ron.

"That is not our secret to tell," Harry said, sternly defending Devon's confidence. "The point is, that I know most of the people you're worried about, and as for the ones I don't, it's good enough for me that Ginny either trusts them or doesn't. She knows better than anyone about putting your faith in someone and having it shattered. She knows how manipulative Voldemort can be, and she knows it better than anyone in this room. So could you lay off of her a bit? If you're worried about me, come to me. But please don't get mad at Ginny on my behalf, because I don't appreciate it. And I _know_ she doesn't appreciate it.

"You and Ron are my best friends, but because of that, my friendship with Ginny is completely separate from my friendship with you two. Can you see why she might find it a little patronizing for you to tell her what to do, when she's basically been excluded from the three of us since she came to school here? Rest assured, if I don't like something she's doing, I am perfectly capable of telling her so."

He said it all in a way that made it sound like he was telling her she had something in her teeth rather than telling her to butt the hell out of their friendship. He really was getting better at this whole savior-of-the-world thing. He was learning how to command people without those people thinking they were taking orders, all before her very eyes.

Ginny shared a look of approval with Luna. Kerney looked pleasantly surprised at how smoothly Harry had taken control of the conversation.

"So what are you two doing up here?" Ginny asked, drawing the gazes of both boys. Harry and Ron were pinned with the inquisitive eyes of all four girls. Harry smirked.

"We thought that it was a little suspicious that both Ginny and Hermione have been gone all evening. I asked Andrew if he knew where Ginny was, and that's when Nadine Ryan walked back through the portrait hole, followed by practically every other fifth, sixth, and seventh year girl in our House. Except for the three of you," he added indicating the Kernel as well.

"We thought it was a mite strange for every single older girl in the House to be gone at once," Ron explained.

"And I figured that, whatever was going on, Ginny was probably behind it," Harry admitted.

"And I figured that Hermione had probably followed her out to try and stop her from getting expelled for whatever it is she's doing," Ron perceptively noted. Ginny's smirk was now matching Harry's. Luna was smiling, though it didn't appear that she was paying attention to the conversation. The Kernel looked torn between wanting to smile and roll her eyes.

"Well, you're not too far off the mark," Ginny replied. "I wouldn't have been expelled though." She paused, sneaking a glance at her brother, and then Hermione. Man. Those two had to be playing some hard core tonsil hockey. She wondered if Harry had any idea. "But, Hermione _did_ state her predictable and completely absurd objections to my activities this evening." Hermione's gaze broke from where it had been set on Ron, and she scowled at Ginny. Ron smiled.

"I am not predictable!" Hermione insisted, but hushed quickly as the patronizing glares of everyone else fervently contradicted her claim. Luna piped up before the older girl had a chance to get wound up.

"I'm going to bed. Good night." And she abruptly left the room. Ginny smiled at her friend's retreating figure.

"Loony!" the Kernel shouted, causing Luna to stop and turn when she was halfway out the magical door. "Wait for me," she added. "Night Ginny!" she called with a wave, as she followed their Ravenclaw friend out the door. Now alone with the trio, Ginny wished she had hustled out with Kerney.

"I'll go, too," she said, turning to leave. "See you." She tried not to be disappointed when Harry didn't call her back or follow her into the hall. Impulsively, she took corridors and secret passages that were out of the way, in the faint hope of seeing Theo or Devon, or a newly arrived Baron. But it was to no avail.

Somehow the rare and welcome prospect of a good night's sleep didn't make up for walking back to the common room alone.

----------

As the boys descended upon the Great Hall, Ginny watched for Harry's arrival. She hadn't stared at him this openly since third year, and it was almost liberating, in a way. She watched him approach the table with Neville and Ron, watched as copies of the new List made appearances, watched as he and his two mates found their names next to various categories.

And then she watched as his eyes went from the slip of parchment directly to her own. Ginny nodded her head ever so slightly toward the doors of the Great Hall, and Harry nodded once. As he turned to make his excuses to Ron, Ginny nudged Nadine and told her not to wait for her when they went to class. She joked to Andy that apparently the girls could unite just as well as the boys, to which he smiled sheepishly.

_And it's not such a bad thing to be leaving Andy and Nadine to sit next to each other, is it?_ Ginny thought to herself.

As she rose to leave, she caught Kerney's eye, and her friend glanced immediately down the table to where Harry was getting up to leave as well. Looking back to Ginny she nodded in understanding and smiled—not her usual knowing, infuriating smirk, but a small, warm, friendly smile, the one Ginny had come to believe was saved for a very few people, and even fewer occasions. Smiling back, she winked at her friend and turned to follow Harry (at a distance, mind) out of the Great Hall.

She had hoped to find him waiting for her outside the doors, but he was still walking about twenty paces ahead of her when she finally made it out into the entranceway. But as he ducked into a secret passage just before the hall turned a corner, she knew immediately where he was headed.

_The kitchens_. Thank Merlin. She was hungry. She smiled at the thought of seeing Dobby, and briefly thought that she could afford to miss her first class of the day, since she had double Charms and a break before lunch.

When she finally ducked into the doorway to the kitchens, she looked around for several seconds before finding Harry all the way on the other side. She had never thought that there might be a third entrance to the kitchens, but so it was. Harry looked up at her with kind eyes and an almost-smile as her form emerged from a sea of merry elves and breakfast dishes. Once Ginny was seated and her order taken, she turned her full attention on him.

"So you've been a little busy, I see," Harry observed, unfolding the new List on the table. Ginny bit her lip. For as long as she had known him, and watched him, and catalogued him, there were still times when he was unpredictable, when she couldn't read him at all. After the way he'd been acting recently, she hoped she hadn't ruined it with her little act of revenge—she liked this new, slightly bolder, slightly taller Harry.

"A little," she said non-committally, willing him to give some indication that he either hated her guts or didn't mind the thing.

"It looks like the girls don't want to shag me nearly as much as the blokes want to shag you," he commented and Ginny laughed with delight. He smiled at her reaction. Dobby and a few of his friends brought them an intimidating spread of breakfast choices while she calmed down. Ginny grabbed the List as she made to reply.

"Wait, so you mean, in addition to being," she glanced down at the parchment, "amazing at Quidditch, completely dangerous, and essential to the lives of witches everywhere, you tell jokes, too?" She smirked and looked back up at him. "No wonder you're the most datable boy in the school!" He chuckled as he unfolded his napkin and laid it across his lap.

"Well, I aim to please," he jokingly reminded her. Ginny smirked as she dove into a Belgian waffle with fresh strawberries and whipped cream. Dobby was the coolest friend ever.

"This is what we were doing last night," she explained once she had made some headway into her breakfast. "Hermione only started accusing me of being chummy with Slytherins after we did it. She came to the meeting and tried to tell me I shouldn't do the List, and then afterwards she tried to tell me that it was a good idea. Then, when we saw the results, she freaked out about all the Slytherins I know." Harry nodded.

"She has trouble with that, Ginny," Harry replied, with a look asking her to cut the girl some slack. "She doesn't always know how to say what she means to say."

"She certainly seems to know when she's ordering me around like a little girl," Ginny groused back. Harry smiled. Ginny saw this and pouted. Harry chuckled.

"I think the majority of people are well aware that you are not a little girl," he said in response, strangely concentrating on his plate of eggs when he said it.

"Harry, I'm sorry about that extra category," he looked up at her. "I didn't put it on there. Some of the girls suggested doing something like that, and the idea caught on. I know you hate it when you have everyone's attention because of this, and I didn't mean for that to happen. Hermione and Katie were so touched and happy about it, that I couldn't take it off without someone making a fuss about it."

"I understand," he said.

"I think the only other person who was uncomfortable with it was Luna."

"Well, she's pretty on-the-nose about things like that." Ginny suddenly recalled the trip on the Hogwarts Express in September, when Luna had called her out for being in love with the boy in front of her.

"Yes, she is." Maybe a little too on-the-nose. Again, Ginny was struck with a sudden recollection: her new suspicion that Ron and Hermione were sucking face in secret. No doubt making productive use of their Prefect rounds. "Harry, can I ask you something?"

"Sure," he replied, eyebrows furrowing slightly at her somewhat anxious tone.

"Um . . . well . . . are Ron and Hermione . . ."

"Snogging behind my back? Yes."

"I had a hunch."

"Yeah. It's kind of an absurd spectacle." He smiled grimly. "I mean, they are terrible about keeping secrets that involve themselves. About me, they can keep a secret very well, but when it comes to their own, they're absolutely rubbish. But they think they're being extremely clever."

"You don't seem very upset that they're keeping something this important from you."

"Oh, I was at first. Do you know when I started suspecting them?" Ginny shook her head, curiosity all over her face. "The night you came into our room looking for Ron after your dream. There was no reason for him to be gone then, and when I got back to bed, I saw that the Map was gone." Ginny's eyebrows raised in surprise.

"So _that's_ why you started giving him the cold shoulder." Harry nodded, looking out into space, as if deep in thought. Then he seemed to realize something and looked back at her.

"Actually, I was more angry with him for being gone when you needed him." Ginny tried to contain her shock. Harry was glaring at his food and shaking his head. "I'm glad you have five other brothers, because you'd be in a sorry state if he was the only one to rely on. He's brilliant at being a best mate, but I reckon he's turned into a pretty rotten brother. That's probably my fault."

"It probably is, but I don't blame you for it," Ginny explained. Harry looked skeptical. "Harry, I don't. I'll admit that I was pretty angry first and second year, and having Ron go from my best friend when I was ten, to ignoring me when I was eleven, is a big reason why I found the diary so appealing. But it's not Ron's fault, and it's certainly not yours." Harry looked very upset at her admission.

"Just think, even if he hadn't given me up for you, I still might have been stuck down in the Chamber of Secrets, only you wouldn't have known to come save me. I'm quite glad you and my brother are best mates, Harry. I would never want to change that." He looked somewhat placated. They fell into silence as they finished their breakfast. After draining his glass of pumpkin juice, Harry spoke.

"When did you start thinking they'd finally gotten together?" he asked.

"Last night, when we were waiting for the Room of Requirement to tally the votes for the List. Hermione felt it was the appropriate time to give me her permission to be your friend," Ginny explained with not a little sarcasm. Harry chuckled and shook his head.

"I'm sorry about that," he said.

"It's not your fault she feels the need to stick her nose where it doesn't belong," Ginny countered. "But, she said something that made the pieces in my head click. She said that she knew you and I are talking more now, and that she knows you three can be kind of exclusive sometimes—Kind of? _Honestly_—but that she realized, and this was the kicker: she said that she and Ron wouldn't always be there to push you to open up about your feelings and things. I was like 'whoa, when did they start snogging.' It wasn't hard to see that she was shoring up emotional support for you in their absence." Harry nodded, looking thoughtful.

"Isn't it incredible how a girl who is so academically sharp can be so dumb when it comes to dealing with people?" he asked.

"Yes, it is. It surprises me almost as much as it surprises her when I disagree with her and get angry with her. She's honestly appalled that I would have the gall to challenge her authority."

"Like how she's appalled when you _dare_ to skip ahead in three classes?" he added with a smirk.

"Just like that, actually." Ginny matched his pleasant smirk with one of her own.

It was strange, but after she answered him, they sat there, fork and spoon poised in their hands, watching each other. Ginny was wondering when they had become good enough friends that conversation would flow so easily like it had. The funny thing about it was, she didn't feel uncomfortable under his gaze, and he didn't appear to either.

She liked looking at him. It brought her comfort to watch him when he was at ease, when he was comfortable. His emotions ran through his expression and body language much more smoothly and cleanly when he was comfortable. Needless to say, he was rarely at ease or comfortable these days. Ever since Cedric had died, but particularly since Sirius had been killed, Harry rarely dropped the tension in his back and shoulders, the tension that sometimes made Ginny think that if he didn't resort to it, his whole body might give way with the grief he felt.

But not at the moment. At the moment, the tension was gone, melted away, leaving the taller, stronger, older, almost lithe Harry in front of her.

As they continued to watch each other quietly, Harry adjusted his seating, leaning back in his chair, considering her more thoughtfully with every passing moment. Tired of unknowingly holding her fork up above the remnants of her waffle, Ginny set it down on her plate and cracked a smile at Harry's new posture. It struck her as very James Potter-like.

She could definitely imagine Harry's father sitting back casually in his chair like Harry was doing now, and almost on cue, Harry reached a hand up unconsciously to scratch his head. Ginny's barely-there smile grew into a grin, and she couldn't fight the urge to shut her eyes and savor the image of him.

When she opened them again, Harry was still watching her, and he was now faintly smiling as well.

"What's so funny?" she asked him, with a quirk of her eyebrows. He shrugged.

"Nothing." His answer echoed hers and Hermione's from the night before. She smirked playfully.

"It must be a pretty big 'nothing' for you to lie about it," she countered, and he laughed. She chuckled at him.

"I suppose it is," he conceded. The knowing look in his eyes piqued her curiosity.

"Really?" she asked, still amazed that he would be so uncharacteristically frank with her.

"Yes, I believe that is how I would characterize it," he replied. She couldn't tell if the slightly pink tinge to his face was the heat from the ovens or—could it be a blush?

"But you're not going to tell what it is," she guessed. He smiled, all traces of pink vanishing.

"No, I'm not, Miss I-Have-a-Secret-Patronus," he countered, with not a little triumph in his expression. Ginny cringed. There went the nice morning she was having. If Harry only knew what it was, he wouldn't think it was quite such a riot to tease her about it.

"If my Patronus is the price of your big 'nothing', I think I can live in suspense for a little while," she responded. Harry nodded in recognition.

"I thought that might dampen your curiosity a bit," he said. He glanced at the clock on the wall nearest them. "Oh, _shite_. I have Charms." Ginny giggled. Yes, giggled. She wasn't proud of it, but the boy was bloody _hot_ and he was acting so unguarded, and just . . . _oh_. He was shooting her the same winning smile she'd seen in pictures of James Potter.

She could safely say she now had a very healthy appreciation for Lily Evans' choice in a husband. No wonder they had looked so nauseatingly hot for each other in Professor Wrightman's memory.

"Ginny?" Harry's chuckling voice cut through her inner monologue. She shook her head a little to clear her mind.

"Yeah?"

"I'll see you at Quidditch practice, yeah?"

"Oh, of course. Sure. Definitely." His smile was bloody distracting. He was trying not to laugh at her. She did not appreciate this, and shoved him. He was clearly not expecting it.

"Um, Ginny?" he asked, doing slightly less of a terrible job of keeping the laughter out of his voice. But his face completely betrayed his amusement.

"What, you big _wanker_?" she said grumpily, causing him to laugh outright.

"I was just going checking to make sure you're not actually ten years old," he managed to get out. She looked scandalized and he ran for the door. But she wasn't to be outrun so easily. Her wand was out before she even thought to wield it, and she shouted the first joke hex that came to mind.

"_Extra Zagela!_" she shouted as her wand sliced through the air. Surviving a childhood with the twins certainly had its advantages.

The blow of the hex sent Harry flying through the door out of the Kitchens, and Ginny tore after him. He was picking up the remainder of his school things when she caught up to him in the corridor. When he turned to reach for his ink bottle, Ginny burst into laughter.

"By all means," he snarked pleasantly as he straightened up, his things finally collected. "Enjoy yourself." She leaned around him and ran her fingers over the smooth black tail that was now running out the back of his trousers. It was like she imagined a jaguar's might be. As far as tails went, it suited him. Matched his brilliantly unruly hair.

"It's very handsome as far as tails go," she offered. He scowled, but his eyes sparkled. Indeed, they sparkled so enchantingly, that she didn't have time to react when he whipped out his wand and cast the same spell on her.

"Eep!" she yelped as she felt the tail suddenly burst out under her pleated skirt. It was cat-like, like Harry's, but smaller and slimmer. And Red. Oh, yes. It matched her hair perfectly.

"You'll notice I didn't toss you down the corridor when I cast the spell," he insinuated. She looked back at him unabashedly.

"Well, you bloody deserved it, you self-satisfied git!" she hollered, fighting a smile. It was hard not to smile when you were having such a ridiculous argument with such an incredibly attractive boy. Not to mention figuring out how to move your new tail.

"Okay, I'm seriously late to Charms, and seeing as I've already missed History of Magic today, I really need to go," he insisted, still chuckling. Ginny grinned and shoved him again.

"Go then, you big dork."

"I will!" he replied, smiling back somewhat triumphantly. He turned and started off in the direction of the Charms corridor, tail swishing slightly. Ginny's laughter rang out through the halls cheerfully as he disappeared around the corner.

-----------

Ginny watched Harry disappear, and stood where she was, pondering the boy who now on his way—ten minutes late—to N.E.W.T. Charms. She smirked at the thought of Hermione's probably reaction. She wondered whether Ron had noticed how much more time Harry was spending with his baby sister lately. Hermione had noticed, she knew, but was Ron too distracted by Hermione's oral gymnastics to have caught on?

_Ew_. Ginny shuddered at the thought of them making out. Though, she had to admit, the notion of the uptight and rule-mongering Hermione locked in a passionate embrace—particularly with a boy as unrefined and sprawling as Ron—made her snort in amusement.

These were the thoughts running through Ginny's mind when she felt something strange coming from . . . er . . . behind her. Something—or someone?—was faintly smoothing down the length of her recently acquire tail. She was so un-used to having the thing, that it took her much longer than it should have for her to realize that there was a person behind her, petting her bloody tail. _WHAT!_ If she hadn't screamed in surprise, she would have thought it felt oddly . . . stirring.

But she _did_ scream, and in doing so, whipped around to face a smirking and handsomely smug . . .

. . . _Theo Nott_.

"YOU STUPID PONCE!" she yelled, catching her breath. Her hand was clutched to her chest as she willed her heart to cease from slamming against her sternum. Theo laughed pleasantly. Well, it would have been pleasant if Ginny didn't want to slam him against a wall for scaring the living shite out of her. _Merlin_.

"Nice tail, Ginny," he said, not even putting up the pretense of sympathy. _Smug bastard_. Although, she couldn't help but notice he was a terribly handsome smug bastard. What was with all these achingly attractive boys tormenting and mocking her today? Then she remembered the tail she had given to the last boy who teased her.

"You should have seen _his_," she replied smoothly, with not a little triumph in her expression. Theo's eyebrows raised, though she couldn't tell if it was in curiosity or consideration.

"Oh, yes? May I ask who _dared_ to incite the most dangerous girl in the school?" Ginny's eyes narrowed briefly at his allusion to her less than fond memory of the first List. He had been one of the very few to catch on about how self-conscious it had made her. But, she considered for a moment, hadn't he won something, too?

"Yes, well at least I know people aren't just my friends to get the answers to N.E.W.T. homework assignments," she countered with a glint in her eyes that revealed her to be infinitely more Fred and George's sister than Bill's or Percy's. Theo seemed quite satisfied at her response. Disconcertingly so.

"Is that the only reason you talk to me? For the answers to the Potions assignments?" he asked, knowing full well that it wasn't, and letting it show easily through his tone and expression. Smug bastard. _Bloody attractive, smug bastard_. She was close to even with him in the class and wouldn't have needed him at all to support her grade. They both knew this. Ginny wondered if he didn't know exactly how attractive she found him.

"Of course not," she replied, beginning to walk down the hall. He followed, and looked briefly surprised that she would admit it. His first mistake. "It makes Malfoy and Hermione squirm to see us getting along." If she wasn't so well-schooled in reading Slytherin facial expressions by now, she would not have noticed the light dimming in his eyes. In fact, she wasn't sure she had even seen it.

"And what's more, they're jealous." They brightened again. "Hermione will never be a pureblooded witch, and that makes her insufferably insecure. Malfoy has been staring at me—_creepy git_—since the end of last year. It burns him that you can make me laugh, and I would never look at him twice. Poor as we are, he knows his money would never win me over." He seemed somewhat pacified by her blunt observations about their two classmates, though his eyes were still not as bright or engaging as they had been a few minutes before.

"I wondered whether you had noticed his rather attentive behavior. The ultimate cosmic joke, is it not? The little prince of the Blacks and the Malfoys, not remarkable in any way other than his lineage and his family fortune. Loses to Harry Potter in every match, outscored by the Muggle-born on every exam. And infatuated with the only daughter of the family he was taught to scorn more than any other? I don't think I could have done it up better myself. Draco Malfoy knows that he can't compete with the kind of blokes who would stand a chance with you. And that's before we get to the fact that you'd rip him and his father to pieces given the chance." She looked torn between being highly amused and somewhat grumpy.

"You don't look very entertained by it," he observed.

"Well, perhaps if he didn't totally make my skin crawl, I'd be able to appreciate the joke better." Theo stopped walking—causing Ginny to halt as well—and studied her thoughtfully for a moment. Then his brow furrowed in uncharacteristic gravity. He moved in and lowered his voice.

"He's never . . . tried anything with you, has he?" His gaze was penetrating, and Ginny decided instantly that she would stay friends with this boy for life. She recognized the shadow that absorbed the usual light in his eyes—it was the same one that hooded Harry's, Baron's, and her brothers' gazes when people they cared for were threatened. Ginny's heart beat picked up speed.

"No," she answered immediately, wanting at once to reassure him and figure out if he really cared about her as much as his behavior was implying. When she finally processed the content of the question, she recalled that strange night in the fall term when she had wandered down near the dungeons in an insomnia-induced stupor.

"Well, once . . . I'm not sure, really, but I didn't get a chance to find out, because Baron happened upon us, but that was after I had already punched him in the face, so . . ." she trailed off. Theo's delicious smirk had returned with a vengeance. His eyes practically glistened with amusement and Ginny had to seriously restrain herself from leaning forward and up and closing the distance between them.

Instead, she took a deep breath and kept walking. Theo followed.

"Anyway, he's a slimy git. I almost regret setting that Bat-Bogey Hex on him last year." Theo's eyes widened a little in recognition. "It was only after _that_ that he started watching me and following me and things."

"That was _you_!" he asked, as close to being in awe as it was possible for a confident Slytherin like Theo Nott to be.

"Yes, why?" Theo shook his head and smiled.

"He tried to tell us that Umbridge had done it. As if _she_ would have been powerful enough to cast it. I knew he was lying, but I didn't realize the truth was this good." He paused with another thoughtful look at her. "You really _can_ take care of yourself, can't you." It sounded more like he was making observations to himself, but she answered anyway.

"I reckon so," she replied, smiling at his estimation of her. It was a lot more than her mother and several of her brothers were willing to give her credit for. She felt an urge to compliment him in return.

"You know, if more Slytherins were like you, your House would be the most popular one in the school," she said, watching for his reaction. His mouth appeared to quirk as if indicating that a smile was imminent, but he refrained. He swallowed, and considered her a little longer in silence.

"You know, if more Gryffindors were like you, the two Houses would unite as friends." His face curved into the playful smirk that she loved on him. "Or, shagging partners, at the very least."

"Uh!" Ginny groaned in playful exasperation, punching his arm. Theo was very pleased with himself. But their animation and good humor was immediately arrested as they turned the corner into the foyer between the entrance to the school and the Great Hall.

Standing in the doorway, speaking with Dumbledore and periodically nodding or shaking his head, arm linked delicately with his sister's, a grave but thoughtful expression on his finely chiseled face, was Baron Ramsey.

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	12. Boys and Secrets

**Many Thanks to the following folks for their excellent and helpful reviews: **Elyra 'Darkwynde' Haliwell, Damayanti, Ennui-EAF, Harry and Ginny 4eva, Rabid Bumblebee, KTskywalker, Legit, HarryGinnyfan23, Briana Marie, Alex, maliaphire, Fudge, RegDC, MsMissProngs, Torri-Chiobie, thestral91, sentinel, doom18769, solar1, and psychofroth. **Your comments are all much appreciated :) Apologies for the long wait on this chapter, but school and real life have been intervening more than usual. I hope this makes the wait worth while!**

**CHAPTER 11**

**Boys and Secrets**

Ginny had stopped dead at the sight of the Ramsey twins. Seeing her grin disappear, Theo turned abruptly to find the cause of her sudden gravity. Gretchen was the first to notice them, looking more fragile than Ginny thought possible. Where had her fiery personality gone? The girl in front of them, arm looped delicately but not weakly through her brother's, did not look like the formidable young woman who could shut up Draco Malfoy and impress her progressive attitudes upon the whole of Slytherin House. This girl looked broken.

But upon noticing Ginny and Theo across the way, her countenance brightened slightly. After watching them for a moment, she tugged lightly on her brother's arm. Both Baron and Dumbledore turned to find Ginny and Theo standing self-consciously near the entrance to the Great Hall. The three of them walked over. As they did, something strange passed over Baron's face, piquing Ginny's curiosity since Baron rarely showed emotions or reactions outwardly.

Ginny turned slightly to glance down the corridor from which she and Theo had just come. Sure enough, most students were still in the middle of class. And Harry was in Charms. _Harry_. She had just begun to smile at the thought of him when Gretchen Ramsey's excellent laugh broke out in front of her. Ginny turned back quickly to see what the cause had been.

Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling and Baron seemed on the verge of smiling, but Gretchen was the only one laughing. It took Ginny a moment to remember that she had a tail.

"Oh, yes, that," Ginny admitted, rolling her eyes. "Please, enjoy yourselves. Only, make sure you find Harry and have a good laugh at him, too."

"Harry?" Dumbledore inquired pleasantly.

"Yes," Ginny replied. She had to watch what she said to keep from incriminating herself. Using magic in the corridors was against the rules, after all, and she was standing in a conference with the Headmaster and the Head Boy. "He has one, too. Had his first, in fact." The others seemed to grasp her meaning.

"And you haven't gone to see Madam Pomfrey for a spell reversal?" Dumbledore asked.

"Not yet," she answered. "Harry had to get to Charms and I got distracted," she explained, glancing at Theo.

"Well, just a moment, then," Dumbledore replied. He reached around her and flicked his wand, mumbling something that Ginny couldn't hear. Slowly, she could feel her tail begin to retract and absorb back into her tailbone. She looked back up at the headmaster.

"Thank you!"

"It is quite all right," he replied kindly. He looked as if he was preparing to take his leave. "Mr. Ramsey, Miss Ramsey, if you do not require my assistance any more today, I shall return to my office." Both of the twins nodded and thanked him. "Have a good day, Miss Weasley. Mr. Nott." Ginny and Theo returned his wishes and Dumbledore strode away. The four teenagers watched him until he turned a corner and walked out of sight.

"I'm very glad to see you," Ginny offered, walking forward to give Gretchen a hug. She could hear Theo and Baron greeting each other and shaking hands next to them. "Are you back for good, then?" she asked, once she had pulled away, a hopeful look on her face. Gretchen smiled grimly.

"Yes, but only because it's our seventh year. As soon as school is out, I'll be assuming my mother's place on the Board of Governors for Hogwarts, and my father's place in the Ministry." Ginny's eyes widened. She was quite impressed. But also completely confident that Gretchen Ramsey would have no trouble taking over her parents' roles in elite society. She smiled proudly.

"You will do them credit, I'm sure," she replied. Theo nodded in agreement.

"You will make them very proud, Gretchen," he added, looking the girl straight in the eye. Ginny was rather shocked at his kind words. Then again, Ginny had never been with Theo in the presence of people he didn't dislike. Maybe he was a respectful enough bloke with people he admired.

"And Baron?" Ginny asked, turning to Gretchen's twin brother. "What new responsibilities will the Head Boy be taking on?"

"I will be entering Auror training when I have completed my seventh year," he replied, not taking his eyes from Ginny's. Her eyebrows rose in surprise. Not what she had been expecting.

"Wow!" she answered, and calmed her tone down. "Very impressive. Was that your intention all along, or is your career choice a . . . recent development?" Baron nodded in recognition of what she was aiming at. He instinctively wrapped an arm around his sister's waist. Ginny ground her teeth to keep from crying at the sight.

"I applied last fall," he began, with a glance at his sister. "But I will not pretend that recent events have not, shall we say, _enhanced_ the appeal of becoming an Auror." Ginny nodded knowingly. She wondered if Dumbledore would invite them into the Order. Perhaps he already had.

"I'm sure you will be a brilliant Auror," she said, holding his gaze steady. He was as handsome as ever, and just as regal, but she could see the contained anguish that showed more openly on his sister's face. Theo moved to shake Baron's hand again.

"Undoubtedly," Theo added. "Congratulations on being accepted. They require the highest qualifications and you will only be an asset to their endeavor."

"Thank you both," Baron replied. If he and Theo weren't friends, it was at least clear to Ginny that they held each other in high regard.

"Oh, Theo," Gretchen inserted almost cheerfully, as if remembering something. "I saw your grandmother at the Ministry last week." Theo's uncharacteristically grave expression was replaced with an equally unusual look of soft affection. This was turning into one of the strangest conversations Ginny had ever had at Hogwarts.

"Oh, did you?" he asked with interest. "Was it a Monday? She always goes down there on Mondays for lunch with my grandfather." Gretchen nodded and smiled.

"She was lovely. I was feeling particularly horrible that day, and some of the Ministry administrators were incompetent and the details of the estate were frustrating, and I was nearly losing my grip. She was so nice, and intervened, and helped me with the arrangements for the rest of the afternoon. And she took me out to lunch with your grandfather. She was so wonderful, and it really helped me get through the rest of that mess without losing my mind."

"She is a rather nice lady," Theo admitted, with the same sweet smile he had worn at the first mention of his grandmother. Who knew the snarkiest, most sarcastic boy in the school had a soft spot for his elderly relative?

"Your grandparents are two of the finest witches and wizards in Britain," Baron added. "We cannot thank them enough for all the kindness they have shown us over the past few weeks," he finished sincerely. Theo nodded.

"I'm sure they would say there is no need to thank them. Your family has always shared their ideals and their notions of civility. I know they had a high respect for your parents, just as I have great respect for you. Never doubt that. My mother and father aside"—and at the mention of his parents Theo's face briefly grew uncharacteristically dark—"you will always be able to count on the Caldwells as your allies."

Theo had practically transformed before her very eyes. Gone was the cynic, the sarcasm, the mocking tone, the sly smile. It was almost as if he had flipped a switch shifting him into Proper-Slytherin-Mode. As he now stood, spoke, and carried himself, he would not be out of place with Gertrude Wrightman and the Head Boy in a grand sitting room of a great estate. Ginny had rarely felt more out of her element.

"And the Weasleys," she added, drawing odd looks from her companions. Ginny cringed. Why had she said that? They were all from rich and powerful families with the best blood pedigree. Well, at least there Ginny didn't have to feel self-conscious. She knew that her own bloodline was probably more formidable than any of theirs, heirs or not. But that didn't stop her from still being embarrassed at her family's poverty. "Well, I know my brother Ron generally doesn't like Slytherins, but he's a git, so it doesn't matter. I am your ally, at any rate. And I reckon Harry is, too. And my family would be if they knew you."

Her rambling was punctuated by an unbearable silence, where Ginny wondered if she'd ever embarrassed herself more. Then Baron let out a small smile.

"We appreciate that," he began, and Ginny was relieved to see his eyes conveying the earnestness of his expression. He wasn't patronizing her, and Ginny let out the breath she had been holding. "Your father's great value to the Ministry is sorely unappreciated." And at this, Ginny couldn't help but look gob-smacked. Her father? The nutty Muggle-lover?

"He sees progress and opportunity that has only been squandered and abused by the Ministry. If they had followed his recommendations over the years, it would have been much more difficult for the Death Eaters to regain such a confident place in Britain." Ginny couldn't speak, she was so taken aback.

"And your brothers are all highly respected," Baron continued. "Two Head Boys, a Quidditch Captain, and two of the most successful self-made businessmen in the country. And closest friend to the Boy-Who-Lived. We could not ask for more valuable allies. Thank you."

"Let's not forget that Ginny is the most valuable one of all," Gretchen inserted, smiling. "On one side, a Prewett, and on the other, the seventh child and only girl for seven generations." Ginny's eyes sprang open with shock that Gretchen had taken notice of this little-known detail.

Had Professor Wrightman told her? With as private a person as her teacher was, it was unlikely. Perhaps these were things that heirs of great families were required to know. Theo's eyes had taken a surprised look at first, followed by a nearly triumphant one. Baron smiled again. Ginny didn't know whether to feel uncomfortable or pleased with the attention.

"Most powerful witch in the school, talented flier, remarkable bravery, and the undaunted devotion of numerous classmates," Gretchen began.

"Not too shabby, for a Gryffindor," Theo added. They laughed, and Ginny shot him a grateful look for interrupting. She wasn't at all comfortable with where the conversation had been going. It was like the boys' list all over again.

"Well, thank you for saying such kind things about my family," Ginny said earnestly, but then she turned quite serious. "But please,"—and here she took turns looking each of the Ramsey twins in the eye, dwelling on Baron's—"If you ever need anything, anything at all, don't hesitate to ask." The expressions of the other three became more serious at her tone. She turned slightly toward the boy next to her. "And that goes for you, too, you snarky Slytherin git." Theo smiled.

"We will," Gretchen confirmed. "But for now, I'm starving." She stole a glance at her brother before turning her attention to Theo. "Would you be a gentleman and escort me to the Kitchens?" she asked him. Theo smiled and nodded.

"Of course, I will," he replied, extending his arm for her to take. Ginny thought it seemed like this was part of a game for them. Not unlike the little game she played with Baron with the bowing and the curtsey-ing and the proper names. "Until next time, Miss Weasley," Theo offered, smirking and playing up the proper demeanor that Ginny found so strange on him.

"See you, Theo. Later, Gretchen," she returned with a smile. The four finished exchanging salutations, and Ginny found herself alone in the front entrance of the school with the Head Boy. One look in his anguished eyes and she felt compelled to slowly wrapping her arms around him.

"I'm so sorry about your parents," she said, with tears in her eyes and her face in his chest. He squeezed her back much more forcefully than she had expected he would.

"Thank you," he returned, with a hint of emotion in his voice. Ginny shut her eyes tightly at the awareness that it took something soul-shaking to make such a reserved and private guy show even that much. Ginny tried not to dwell on the fact that he smelled _really_ good. And he had said all those wonderful things about her family . . .

As they broke apart, Ginny wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and watched the boy—or was he a man, now?—in front of her and wondered. Wondered what would happen if she could forsake Harry completely; if she could just _get over him_.

"I mean it, anything that you and Gretchen need, I'm your girl," she offered. Baron smiled. Not the brilliant one she'd gotten after the first Quidditch match, but a soft, sweet one.

"We appreciate it, I promise you," Baron assured her. "Gretchen has always liked that you're your own person." _Not first year, I wasn't_. Where had that dark thought come from? Ginny banished it from her mind, but it left an unsettling mark in the back of her mind. "I think she feels safe leaving Hogwarts in your capable hands once she's gone." Ginny smiled. She liked Gretchen, and would be sorry to attend Hogwarts without her next year. Without either of them.

"Thanks," she replied. "I hope I live up to her expectations."

"I have no doubt that you will," he said. There was a pause, and then Baron went to speak again. Ginny was glad, because she didn't know how to continue the conversation. Of course, if she'd known the consequences of his next words, she might have been more motivated to blurt something out.

"Ginevra," he began, and she smirked at his use of her full name. It amused her, even though he'd done it a million times before. "You must know, from your brothers' experiences, that there is a ball held every year following matriculation from Hogwarts." Ginny set her mind on not displaying surprise or emotion; the most she allowed herself was a look of curiosity. "It is held every year as a celebration for the seventh years and their guests."

"Yes, I remember when Bill, Charlie, and Percy all went," she replied. Fred and George obviously hadn't attended, opting instead for a legendary departure out from under the reign of Umbridge.

"Would you accompany me to the Seventh Year Ball?" he asked, as grandly and graciously as she would have imagined it. She couldn't speak for a moment, trying to confirm in her mind that he had actually asked her. Then her mouth curved into a small smile.

"I would love to be your date to the Ball," she returned pleasantly. He smiled again, and this time it was that smile from the Quidditch match.

"Excellent. I will keep you abreast of how our plans are proceeding."

"Okay," she said, starting to feel excited about the prospect. "Sounds good."

"Well, my sister will be waiting to hear your answer, and I suppose Mr. Nott will eventually have to attend class sometime today, so I must take my leave."

"Of course. Tell Gretchen that I can't wait to see what she plans to wear."

"I am positive she will be just as excited to tell you," he said kindly. There was no doubt that this young man held his sister on a pedestal. It was comforting to Ginny to know that Gretchen deserved it. "We will speak again soon, I'm sure."

"See you later, Baron," Ginny returned. She started walking and then stopped and turned back.

"Baron!" she hollered across the hall, suddenly remembering their rapidly approaching Quidditch match. He turned to face her, looking expectant. "Good luck this weekend," she said sweetly; then she smirked. "You're gonna need it." And then he laughed. He actually _laughed_. It really was a beautiful sight.

"I would wish you luck in return," he began, "but I don't think you'll need it." Ginny tried very hard to keep herself from blushing. It was a futile effort. They each stood for a moment, enjoying the smiles on each other's faces, before setting off in opposite directions, toward their respective common rooms. Ginny supposed she ought to go to at least one class that day.

----------------------------------------------------------

Gertrude Wrightman wasn't someone Ginny had ever expected to see at a Quidditch match, though now that she had seen her in the stands at one, it seemed rather natural. Not that the woman cheered. Oh, no. But she watched, intently interested, wearing a hint of green as she sat beside Professor Snape, who glared at everything and everyone on the field in his usual way. There was almost something comforting about the consistency of their demeanors.

The game itself had been surprisingly uneventful for a Gryffindor-Slytherin match. No one tried to kill Harry; Slytherin's team had been all male and, other than Baron Ramsey and the Skillman brothers, rather nasty. But Gryffindor had prevailed in the end, and Harry had once again sent Draco Malfoy plummeting into the ground without the Snitch.

In fact, the Snitch had been the only significant character in the entire outing. If Ginny thought it took forever in showing itself during the match against Ravenclaw, that was nothing compared to this time. The match had lasted for nearly six hours before the little gold ball had deigned to make an appearance. Harry made short work of it, once it did, but in the meantime Chasers and Beaters alike were thoroughly wearing themselves out. Ginny had never been more exhausted from playing Quidditch.

Baron had played a splendid game, and Slytherin had actually been ahead in goals due to Ron losing his head at Malfoy's taunting about two-thirds of the way through. Ginny had been impressed with her brother's growing skill until he had become unhinged at whatever Draco had said to him just past the four-hour mark. After that the Gryffindors had been hard-pressed to quash the scoring tear of the Slytherin Chasers.

Gryffindor actually would have been in the lead if Betsy Moran hadn't missed three penalty shots. The Slytherin Beaters had clearly made a point of shaking up the young third-year Chaser, and the poor girl had been too nervous to out-maneuver Baron's excellent Keeping skills.

Ginny had come out of the match with a broken wrist and a black eye, following a collision with Malfoy at one point during hour three. He had swerved in front of her as she raced to claim a loose Quaffle, forcing her to slam right into him. Being several inches shorter and much lighter than Malfoy, Ginny had come off much worse than the stupid git, but "accidentally" elbowing him in the face as she recovered made her feel somewhat better about things. Her legs were killing her as the broken wrist she sustained had forced her to hold onto her broom and steer with only her legs during the final three hours of the game. Her quadriceps were positively burning.

But they had won, and remained steadily in first place with only the third—and most difficult—match against Hufflepuff ahead of them.

At full strength, Hufflepuff was probably the only team that could challenge Gryffindor for the cup. Their Beaters were so good that they had thwarted the other two Houses' Chasers until it didn't matter who caught the Snitch in the end.

The interesting thing was, that their wins were by such a small margin (seeing as their Seeker was weakest of the four) that if they lost to Gryffindor, Ravenclaw would edge them out by point differential to play against Ginny and her teammates in the final. Gryffindor would have to lose to Hufflepuff by a wide margin and Ravenclaw would have to lose to Slytherin for the Lions to be left out.

Ginny was contemplating all of this as she undid her wrist guards, standing in the middle of the pitch, as students and fans exited after the game. The celebrations had died down and Ginny was examining her injured arm. Picking up her broom and the two wrist guards from the ground, she headed toward the school with thoughts of finding Madam Pomfrey.

She was testing the range of motion in her gimpy limb, when her broom was suddenly jerked out from under her arm. Ginny whirled around to face the culprit, but quickly stopped and rolled her eyes, commencing her stroll back toward the school. Theo fell into step with her.

"That's quite a shiner you've got there, Miss Ginny," he offered, slinging her broom up against his shoulder. She handed him her sweaty wrist guards to hold while she continued to test out her wrist.

"Yes, remind me to thank your terribly clever housemate for such a lovely decoration," she replied sarcastically. Theo smiled.

"I will." She hit him with her good arm.

"So you're going to the Seventh Year Ball with Baron Ramsey," he began without further preface. If Ginny had been drinking something, she would have spit it out. Instead she turned and looked at her friend with surprise and not a little skepticism.

"Yeah, so what if I am?" she asked.

"I'm just saying that's nice." Liar.

"Are you," she deadpanned.

"Sure I am," he continued nonchalantly. If anyone had ever mastered the proud, Slytherin nonchalance, it was Theo Nott. Actually, the almost haughty casualness kind of reminded her of Sirius. Maybe he really _had_ been a Black, despite himself.

"Well, then we've established that I'm going to the ball with the Head Boy, and that it's nice. Wow, Theo, this is the best conversation we've ever had, including that one in class when we had to brew the anti-acne serum and it was so complicated that we only had time to shout ingredients and times at each other for the entire length of double Potions." He chuckled.

"That was a special one, I'll grant you." She glared and hit him again. He smiled.

"Seriously, what's with the awkward mention of my date that's nearly four months away? You want to help me pick out new dress robes? Sorry, pal. I'm using the ones I got for my birthday." Instead of answering her, Theo moved her good hand out of the way, and pointed his wand at the injured one. It startled her because it caused them to stop walking, but even more so because it was the first time he had ever touched her skin.

"This is going to hurt for a second when the bone resets," he warned. She nodded, not even stopping to consider that perhaps she shouldn't be allowing him to try this. He swirled his wand and said the incantation.

"_Fuck!_" she yelled, cringing as the bone instantly reset itself. Another murmur and flick of his wand washed the pain away. Task accomplished, he began walking again. It took Ginny a moment to realize that she was standing by herself. She jogged to catch up with him.

"Where the hell did you learn how to do that?" she asked, strangely exasperated and not knowing why. She resumed her examination of her wrist, only this time it was in amazement rather than consternation.

"Transfiguration, where do you think?" he replied. Ginny narrowed her eyes.

"Liar. I've caught up to you lot in that class, and I know you haven't learned advanced healing spells yet." Theo shook his head slightly and smiled to himself, as if he was confirming something in his own mind. This made Ginny grumpy, and she stopped walking, barely stifling the urge to stomp her foot. "What!" Her insistent tone caused him to turn and stop as well. He looked her in the eye and smirked.

"Go to Hogsmeade with me," he said, not taking his eyes from hers, her broom still chucked on his shoulder. Ginny's jaw dropped slightly as she processed the question.

"Like, in a week? On Saturday?" she said, for lack of anything else to say that was at all intelligible. To her credit, however, she wasn't nearly as thrown here as she had been in the corridor when Duncan had asked her.

"In a week, on Saturday," he confirmed calmly, nodding once, and watching her closely. Ginny cocked her head to the side a little as her mind cleared, and she examined his face. Then a small smile crept onto hers.

"All right then," she replied coolly, but the smile grew a little. Satisfaction burned in his eyes. "Show me how Slytherins do Hogsmeade."

"I can't say it's all that different from how Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, or Hufflepuffs do Hogsmeade."

"What, no secret dark magic clubs and ritual sacrifice?" she asked with mock surprise. He smirked. "You mean, you don't sit around a fire and draw the Dark Mark on each other's arms with black markers?" Here his face darkened quite unexpectedly, and it startled her. "Theo," she said apologetically, pulling his arm so he wouldn't walk away from her. "Hey, I'm sorry. You know I don't think your House is like that." Theo stared out at the nearly empty Quidditch pitch for a moment and then looked at her.

"It's not you. I apologize. Don't feel bad," he assured her. At least his face had softened a little. But she knew she had hit a nerve with her joking comments. She recalled the day the Ramseys had returned and she had stood and talked with the three Slytherins in the front hall. Theo had said quite a lot about his family.

"Theo, I know you're not like your father," she tried to reassure him. His jaw hardened at the mention of a parent he obviously had no love for. He let out a hollow laugh.

"But what about my mother? Am I like _her_?" he asked, sarcastically. Ginny wasn't at all sure whether the questions were rhetorical or if he expected an answer from her.

"I don't know anything about your mother," Ginny admitted. She was again reminded of Sirius. "I _do_ know that a person's parents don't define who they are. A friend of mine that I loved very much taught me that no matter how great or rich or old or pure a person's family is, it doesn't dictate their life unless they want it to." He frowned for a moment and then looked at her thoughtfully.

"Who was this friend?"

"Sirius Black," she replied unblinkingly. His eyebrows raised in surprise. Ginny felt a rush of triumph wash through her. She liked surprising these Slytherins. She didn't want them to think they could ever pin her down in a box with the "typical Gryffindor."

"He made some very difficult choices in his life," Theo said gravely, but with a trace of proud reverence in his voice, as he started up the steps to the huge doors of the school. Ginny followed. "He's probably the only person who hated his parents more than I hate mine."

"Why do you hate your parents?" she asked quietly, unable to imagine hating her own, even with Sirius as a frame of reference.

"My father is a Death Eater, which makes him a _coward_ on top of being a dark wizard, a murderer, a bigot, and very likely a rapist and a thief. My mother married him, knowing full well the acts he was suspected of committing. Not because she loved him, but because she, too, is coward." He turned to her with a strange expression. "Ironically enough, she was a Gryffindor."

To this, Ginny's eyebrows raised. She had never heard of a Gryffindor siding with Voldemort or the Death Eaters. Sirius had been associated with them, of course, but he had been innocent in the end. Then again, she _had_ heard of one: Peter Pettigrew. Her brow furrowed as she thought of who Theo's mother could be.

"My mother's name was Samantha Caldwell before she was married," he said, apprehending the question in her mind. She nodded, noting that the name sounded familiar. "We thank Merlin everyday she gave up the name Caldwell, because it means she can't destroy any more of the family. My uncle became the head of the family when she took the name Nott, and I'm the head of my family now that my father is in prison." They began walking again, toward the Great Hall.

"You seem very close with your grandparents," Ginny observed, trying to move the conversation into a more pleasant topic. She obviously chose the right one—his face relaxed immediately.

"Yes. I am much closer with my grandparents than I have ever been with my parents. My Uncle Chad, as well. He's been like an older brother to me."

"What are their names?" she asked, as they strolled past the Great Hall. Their common rooms were in opposite ends of the school, and not wanting to end the conversation just yet, Ginny subtly steered them toward the kitchens. It would be a good excuse—she was starving and thirsty after six hours of Quidditch.

"My uncle is Charles Caldwell. He was in Ravenclaw, five years younger than my mother. My grandparents are Alistair Caldwell and Laura Creggie Caldwell. He was in Slytherin, and she was in Gryffindor, of all places." He smirked at the last part.

"She sounds like quite a lady," Ginny replied, smiling at the knowledge that his grandmother was a product of her own House. Mrs. Samantha Caldwell Nott must have been a bad seed, indeed.

"She really is," Theo confirmed. "I think the two of you would hit it off remarkably well."

"I think I'd like to meet her. I'm curious to see this Gryffindor who married a Slytherin, vocally opposes the Death Eaters, and so obviously has your respect. You better be careful, Theo, people might think you're a bit soft." She smiled as she said it, and he chuckled.

"Yes, I suppose this is point where I command you to keep my respect for my grandmother a secret or face terrible consequences." Ginny smiled. "Except that I know you wouldn't let me exact those consequences without a rather furious fight, and I'm in no mood to test my dueling skills against the a first daughter of seven generations." Ginny rolled her eyes and shoved him again. He laughed openly at her exasperation.

"What is the big deal with you people?" she asked out loud, but not angrily. "Why do you heirs know so much about me!" That question was much more earnest. She really was a bit curious about how they all knew the special situation of her birth.

"My dear Ginny, it is my job to know." She glared at him. "Just as it is Baron and Gretchen's responsibility to know, as the head of the Nott family and a prominent member of the Caldwell family, it is my duty to know the identities of other prominent witches and wizards in my generation." This made Ginny wonder why Professor Wrightman had seemed surprised to find out that Ginny was the first daughter in seven generations. Isn't this something that she would have known?

"Then why didn't Professor Wrightman know about me?" Ginny asked. Theo looked at her thoughtfully for a few moments before answering.

"As to that, I can only guess," he replied.

"Yeah, so guess already," Ginny prodded. A smile briefly graced his face at her blunt response. Then his demeanor took on a more serious cast.

"She was supposed to marry Sirius Black, you know," he began. Ginny's expression reflected the gravity of recalling the circumstances. She nodded. "So you also know that when he renounced the beliefs and political causes of his family, the Wrightmans revoked the arrangement. Even if Sirius Black had a younger brother to step into the heir's role, it wouldn't have been the same. Sirius Black was one of the most powerful and influential wizards of his generation, even before he left Hogwarts. Even those who sided with the Dark Lord couldn't help but respect him. Regulus Black was insufficient to step into his elder brother's shoes. Gertrude Wrightman was as much a heavyweight as her former betrothed. It would have been an insult for her to marry Sirius' less worthy brother."

Ginny made to ask the question that had been driving her to distraction ever since she'd first found out about the connection between her old friend and her Defense teacher, but Theo must have anticipated her because he pressed on with his answer.

"I can't say that I don't understand why she submitted to the wishes of her parents." He raised his hand in a calming motion when Ginny's face darkened. "I'm not saying that I would have done the same thing, or that what she did was right. I'm simply conceding that I understand the position she was in, and that I can comprehend the reasons behind her decision." Ginny nodded grumpily.

"I can guarantee you, however, that what she gained in preserved stature for her family, she sacrificed ten times over in personal happiness." Ginny watched Theo as he said this, wondering what he truly thought of their professor and her decisions regarding marriage, Sirius, and her family. "That's why she lives in France, you know," he added. This was news to Ginny.

"France?"

"Yes. Shortly before the end of the first war, she moved her family to France, the home country of the man she married. She's lived there ever since. It is rather strange, though, because she has worked for the Ministry ever since she left Hogwarts." This was turning out to be quite the information session.

"She works for the ministry, but she lives in France?"

"Yes, but few people know either of those things to be true."

"Why?"

"Because the character of her position with the Ministry is such that she is not visible to the public, and living across the Channel only helps her to maintain a discreet and, I would guess, a relatively quiet life. Her husband is much more active in French magical affairs."

"What does she do for the Ministry?" Ginny asked, but the answer came to her even as Theo said it.

"She's an Unspeakable." Ginny had heard of them, of course, but she had never come close to knowing one. This added a whole new aspect to her ever more intriguing professor.

"How do you know all this?" she asked him. "And don't give me some dodgy answer that it's your job to know. I mean it, how did you come across information like this?"

"My grandparents told me," he replied simply. At Ginny's expectant look he elaborated. "They couldn't be sure that my parents would ever tell me the correct history of that particular time period, so they made sure I found out last summer. Once my father had gone to prison, and Sirius Black was killed fighting his Death Eater cousin in an attempt to protect Harry Potter, they knew that he had never become a Death Eater. They visited my father in prison and he confirmed it." The main part of Ginny's brain was trying to process all this, while the part of her that was constantly resenting her mother kept wondering why it was so much easier for Theo to get information than it was for her.

"We all knew that his brother Regulus had been a Death Eater, but many of the old families who resisted the Dark Lord always doubted the official position of the Ministry. I only knew what I'd heard from my mother until Sirius Black escaped from Azkaban. I was old enough to tell that my father and his colleagues grew nervous, and I began to suspect that my mother had lied to me. At that point I was already spending most of my holidays with my Uncle's family or with my grandparents. The next opportunity I had, I asked them to tell me the truth, and they told me of their suspicions, which were compelling. After all, Sirius Black was never given a trial."

"No, he wasn't," Ginny agreed. She was torn between grateful feelings toward Theo for thoroughly believing in Sirius' innocence and angry ones toward her parents and others for keeping her in the dark for so long. She wondered if anyone in the Order besides Dumbledore knew Gertrude Wrightman's true profession. Remus, perhaps. Probably Professor Snape as well.

They had come upon the entrance to the kitchens, and Ginny had stopped walking on instinct. Theo looked at her quizzically—or as near to quizzically as was proper for a Slytherin.

"What?" she asked as she tickled the pear in the painting. It giggled and the frame swung open. Theo's eyebrows raised in realization.

"I did not know there was a second entrance to the Kitchens," he admitted.

"There are three, actually," Ginny replied. He didn't need to know that she only found out about the third one recently. "That I know of, anyhow. Knowing this place I wouldn't be surprised to find out there are more." Dobby and several of his friends met them as they climbed through the portrait hole.

"Would Miss Wheezy be wanting some snacks?" he asked, turning to bow at Theo. The other house elves bowed several times. "And her friend? Would he be liking something, too?" Ginny smiled. Theo seemed somewhat amused.

"Yes, please. Dobby, this is Theodore Nott, but he likes to be called Theo." Dobby's face scrunched in thought and he suddenly began backing away from them. The other elves looked at him and seemed torn between serving their "masters" and following Dobby's example.

"Is Miss being sure that Master Theo be a friend?" Dobby asked warily, taking care not to look at Theo. Ginny wondered what on Earth was bothering him, when it hit her: _Dobby had worked for the Malfoys_. He probably recognized the name Nott from Lucius Malfoy's Death Eater business. Sparing an apologetic glance at Theo, she crouched down to Dobby's eye level, motioning for her companion to stand next to her. When Theo was level, she pulled out his arm, forcing him to crouch down as well.

"Dobby, I promise you, this Nott is a friend," she said, looking Dobby straight in the eye as she did. Then she tugged Theo's arms out in turn, pulling up the sleeves to reassure the faithful elf that there was no Dark Mark to be found. Theo quickly caught on to what was happening and sighed in resignation.

"Theo's father is a Death Eater," she admitted, "but Theo hates his father. Theo is my friend, and he doesn't like the Malfoys. Okay?" Dobby nodded in evident relief. Ginny and Theo stood up, giving Dobby orders for pumpkin juice and various foods. When the elves had dispersed to prepare the meal, Ginny went and sat down at a small table in the corner.

"Sorry about that," she offered as Theo joined her. He shrugged.

"It's not like I haven't had something like that happen before," he admitted.

"That doesn't mean it's right," she returned.

"You're absolutely correct, only that doesn't mean it's not going to keep happening. I doubt I'll ever lose the tag that my father's loyalties have attached to my name. The name Nott is soiled for the foreseeable future, and I can't very well take the name Caldwell."

"The people that matter won't care, and the people that care probably aren't important," Ginny decided. Theo nodded thoughtfully, and their food arrived. They ate somewhat quietly, periodically making jokes or discussing the Quidditch match. When Ginny decided that she really had to take a bath, they parted pleasantly.

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Having taken showers and accepted numerous congratulations, Harry and Ginny managed to slip out of the Gryffindor common room after only an hour of the festivities. Ensconced in the Invisibility cloak, they stopped at the kitchens on their way to Professor Wrightman's office. The visit served two purposes: to have Dobby tell their professor that they were coming and to have something to eat and drink that didn't contain either sugar or alcohol.

As they made their way to the Defense classroom, Ginny felt a draft and shivered. Her hair was still wet and it had begun to soak through the neck of her jumper. Harry must have noticed, because he turned his head to look at her while they walked.

"Are you cold?" he asked, barely above a whisper.

"No," she replied.

"You shivered," he countered, with a bit of a smirk.

"Yes. My hair is wet."

"Why didn't you dry it?" he asked, honestly perplexed.

"It feels clean," she answered simply. He considered her for a second, but seemed to forget that they were still walking and promptly caught his foot on the bottom of the cloak, tumbling to the ground. Ginny only barely kept her balance.

"Are you alright?" she asked, with concern but also a slight chuckle.

"Yes," he replied shortly. By the way he was avoiding her eyes, Ginny guessed he was blushing. She smiled, endeared by his embarrassment. Though why he would ever be embarrassed in front of _her_, of all people, was beyond her understanding. If anyone had been humiliated more times in their life, it was Ginny.

"So, tell me again, what this is all about?" he asked, finally, after they started walking again. Ginny bit her lip, very glad for the short amount of daylight in the winter and the increasing darkness of the corridors.

"There are things that you need to know," she replied, not sure what Professor Wrightman wanted to remain hidden. It was frustrating. She desperately wanted to tell Harry everything that she had seen, but she had given Gertrude Wrightman her word. Her teacher was trusting her, and only because Ginny had brashly and inappropriately invaded her privacy in the first place. _She had made her bed, and now she had to lie in it_. She could hear the clichés echoing in her brain. _With great knowledge comes great responsibility_.

"You're probably going to be angry," she added frankly. Harry turned to look at her quickly.

"Why am I going to be angry," he said, not exactly asking so much as not contesting her conclusion.

"Because I know you hate having things withheld from you even more than I do. And you're going to be pretty pissed that no one told you any of this already." She hoped being honest now would score her some points when he freaked out later, but she doubted it would.

"You've been keeping things from me?" he asked, sounding not a little disappointed. There was also a trace of resignation in his voice.

"I wanted to tell you," she replied, and at least that was the truth.

"So why didn't you?" he asked, a little snarky. _Oh, bloody hell_. He was getting pissed before they even got to the Defense room. This was going to be even worse than she expected.

"Look," she said, stopping suddenly and turning to him. He stopped short as well, though Ginny wasn't sure if he would have were it not for the cloak covering them. "I saw something I wasn't supposed to, and I was asked to keep someone's confidence. I begged her to let me tell you, and now we're here. Please understand that I wouldn't have kept it to myself if it wasn't important," Ginny pleaded. She was looking at him earnestly, desperate for him to understand that she was between a rock and a hard place. Harry sighed.

"It's about my mum, isn't it?" he asked, sounding still more resigned and not a little tired.

"Partly," she replied. Harry nodded, paused in thought, and began walking again. Ginny followed, both of them still under the cloak.

"I never thought I would have to worry about you keeping things from me," he said. Ginny couldn't help but feel the burn of his words, but it didn't stop her from wondering how he could be so presumptuous after thoroughly ignoring her for the first four years that he'd known her.

"You seem awfully invested for someone who's only been talking to me outside the D.A. since the summer," she snapped back before she could catch herself. Harry was clearly startled by her response and she felt terrible as soon as it was out.

"Ugh!" she groaned in frustration, covering her face with her hands. "What is wrong with me! Why do I say things like that!" Harry seemed even more startled at her self-recrimination. She didn't notice.

"I thought I already apologized for that," he ventured tentatively. Ginny shot him a glare and he shut his mouth.

"I know you did. But things aren't that simple. It takes time to get it out of my system. Can you honestly say that if Professor Snape said he was sorry for being such a git all these years that you'd forgive him and forget about it?" Harry sighed in recognition and shook his head.

"No, of course you wouldn't. You've taken years of abuse from him, and it's left a dent in you. It wouldn't be an easy thing to get past."

"No," Harry said, "but I certainly wouldn't compare the fact that we weren't friends for five years to the way Snape has treated me."

"Well, of course you weren't ever mean to me or anything. But indifference can be just as hurtful in its own special way, so I'm afraid you're going to have to just face the fact that I had this ridiculous crush on you, and I know it wasn't your fault, but it left a dent in me, okay?"

Ginny was grumpy. But she liked the fact that she could say these things without quite as much fear of losing his company. "Sorry," she added as he studied her thoughtfully. He was doing that a lot lately.

"I can see that," he answered at last. "Just try to take it easy on me," he asked earnestly. "If you're allowed spiteful comments, I'm allowed to slip up sometimes, too."

"I guess I can try that," she conceded. They rounded a corner and saw light emanating out of the room at the end of the corridor. Ginny stole a glance with Harry, and then started toward it. She could feel his eyes on her again.

As they entered the classroom, Harry immediately tensed. It took a moment for Ginny to understand his reaction, but when she thought of all the professors who had occupied this space and the way they had affected Harry, she took his left hand in her right without thinking.

He squeezed it a little in recognition and they walked toward the professor's office in the back.

"Has Miss Weasley told you why you're here?" Professor Wrightman asked Harry. He shook his head and their professor's pale blue eyes turned to Ginny. For her part, Ginny was proud to say she resisted the temptation to stick her tongue out at the woman. She hadn't told Harry, no matter how hard it was to keep that information to herself.

"I know you were in a picture with my mum at school," Harry said, shocking both women. Ginny, because she didn't imagine Harry could speak so casually about his parents, though now that she thought about it, of course he could.

"What picture was that?"

"The—" Harry was obviously trying to remember the exact wording "—Friendship Appreciation Day picture."

Professor Wrightman took two deep breaths and nodded. "Yes, of course. In the yearbook."

"You all looked very happy," Ginny said, remembering the way Lily Evans had laughed occasionally in the photo.

Gertrude Wrightman looked at them both. "It was a good day."

And then there was silence. Ginny had to practically bite her lip to keep herself from talking just to fill that silence. Harry and Professor Wrightman did not seem to have the same aversion to quiet that she did.

"Why am I here?" Harry finally asked.

"You're here," their teacher said, inclining her head a bit, "because Miss Weasley stumbled into my Pensieve and decided that there were certain things you ought to know about my past."

Harry shot Ginny a quick, disbelieving look.

"Like what?" Harry asked Ginny and then turned to their professor.

"Like the fact that I knew your mother, knew Bellatrix Lestrange, and the fact that my parents had agreed to a marriage between myself and Sirius Black," Wrightman said. Harry looked upset and confused. He shot Ginny a look as she shrugged and felt guilty. He was going to be _so _angry.

"You were _engaged_ to Sirius?" Nope, he didn't sound pleased at all.

"Promised to him," their Defense professor corrected. Ginny rolled her eyes at that shoddy explanation. As if Harry would accept the distinction of old Wizarding customs.

"Their families probably set it up when they were born," Ginny explained to him. "It's an arranged marriage." Harry looked shocked. "It was actually really common not too long ago. I think some families still practice it." Ginny would have brought up Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson and her suspicions about them if Harry hadn't looked so shocked and not a little bit angry.

"Why didn't you marry him, then?" Harry asked their teacher, not even acknowledging Ginny's explanation. Uh, oh. That couldn't be a good sign.

Professor Wrightman began to say, "He broke away from his family when he was—"

"Sixteen, I know," Harry finished for her. "But why didn't you marry him?" Their professor looked briefly unsettled.

"Because when he left his family it was no longer the arrangement my parents contracted."

"_Contracted!_" Harry repeated, somewhat incredulously, an edge in his voice that sent warning bells off in Ginny's head. She didn't dare touch him right then. Ginny did spare a glance at Professor Wrightman, though, who was looking at Harry as intently as he seemed to be looking at her.

"It's the way things worked then," the older woman said. "Heirs of great families married those whom their families chose."

"And Sirius wasn't good enough because he left his dark, evil, bigoted family?" Harry asked, accusingly. Yes, the edge was definitely still there. This wasn't going well at all. Ginny briefly considered summoning the Pensieve and shoving Harry into it so that he could find out that way. But that still didn't fix the problem that Harry simply hadn't grown up in a magical family. Ginny had no idea how they did things like marriage in the Muggle world, but she knew it probably wasn't like the Old Families in the Wizarding one.

"Sirius wasn't what my parents expected anymore."

"Well what about _you_? What did _you_ think of all this? It was _your _life, wasn't it?" Harry snapped, sounding oddly like Sirius in the memories Ginny had seen. And seeing Professor Wrightman flinch—showing what might have been the most vulnerability Ginny had ever seen in her—Ginny knew she saw the parallel too.

"I did what my family asked," Professor Wrightman replied, but it was like watching water begin trickling through the cracks of a dam that was about to burst. For so many years this petite but formidable blonde woman had said those same words. She'd said them to Sirius almost twenty years before. And she'd said them to Ginny. But somehow saying them to Harry seemed to break her seamless confidence in that conviction.

"What does your family have to do with anything?" Harry asked. "Families don't determine everything about a person, and certainly not the people they marry," he added fervently.

Gertrude Wrightman opened her mouth and shut it, but it was the pain in her eyes that caught Ginny's attention. Why was this woman fighting back tears at the words that Ginny had as much as yelled at her before Christmas? Was it because she knew Harry would never understand? Why would that matter?

"Sometimes a person has to do things they would rather not in order to—"

"You don't think I know that?" Harry asked, obviously livid. "You don't think I know about being bound to something difficult?" His voice was rising and Ginny was resigning herself to an inevitable breakdown of anger and resentment.

"This is different," Professor Wrightman insisted, tight lipped and obviously upset. But where was her usual confidence? Where was the unshakeable veneer made out of her moral code? Why did staring into Harry's burning green eyes hurt this beautiful, refined woman so much?

"How? _Why?_ Because you had a choice and I don't? Because Sirius made the right, the good, the difficult decision and you decided that wasn't the way you wanted your husband to act?" Harry asked, not bothering to check his patronizing tone. Ginny stared at him, shocked by his words and his passion, unwilling to speak in defense of Professor Wrightman and yet still finding his anger overwhelming.

"I had an obligation to my family." It was her standard line, but Ginny heard, beneath the steel in her voice, an undercurrent of regret.

"Sirius was _my _family," Harry hissed at her, standing up. Ginny stood too, becoming more worried by the minute. "And if he was willing to have you, you made the biggest mistake of your life in turning him down. I can't believe you would do that, that you would abandon him just like his stupid family did."

Gertrude's entire face closed off and she said not a thing.

"Harry," Ginny asked quietly, shocked to hear her own voice.

"Whatever," he cut in, shaking her off. "If you weren't strong enough to stay by his side when he needed you the most, when he might have loved you, you didn't deserve him," Harry said, still staring at Professor Wrightman, whose pale face went paler.

"But—" Ginny began, quickly cutting herself off as she stared at their teacher, who met her gaze without flinching. And Ginny remembered that kiss—their first and, presumably, their last—that she had seen Sirius give the seventeen-year old Gertrude Wrightman. It broke Ginny's heart to think that he might have loved her. It certainly had appeared that he might in the Pensieve.

"I had an obligation," Wrightman said again, standing then, too, "and I did what I could for my family and we survived."

"I can't believe my mother was ever your friend," Harry said with the tone of someone who was disgusted with the sight in front of him. That was when Ginny saw something break in Gertrude Wrightman's eyes. "Not because you're a Slytherin, not because you're a snob, but because you obviously never cared for anyone but yourself."

"I cared for an entire family. It was my job." Harry laughed grimly.

"Do you really expect me to accept that? To say that you turning from Sirius and staying out of the war is okay because you had an obligation to your family? Do you see Mrs. Weasley hiding? Protecting her own first?" Harry asked. "No. Her greatest fear is losing one of her children, and still she fights, and still she loves Mr. Weasley."

"It isn't the same situation. You don't understand." Ginny cringed at her teacher's response, knowing that it would not do anything to endear her to Harry, who shook his head angrily.

"Did my _mum_ understand? Did _she_ know you chose to break it off with Sirius? Did she _approve?_"

Professor Wrightman flinched then, staring into Harry's green eyes, and Ginny watched with a somewhat nervous awe. How horrible it must be to have your best friend's disapproval thrown in your face by her son twenty years after the fact. But another part of Ginny was glad to see Gertrude Wrightman feel the regret that Ginny thought she deserved to feel.

"I fought," their teacher tried. "I fought more than you could possibly know—"

"Where were you when Sirius went to jail?" Harry accused, cutting her off again. "When my mother was murdered?"

To that, their professor seemed to have no response.

Harry walked closer to her and said viciously, "But I'm glad."

"Glad?" Gertrude Wrightman asked, perplexed but wary. Two states of mind that Ginny never thought she'd see in a million years.

"I'm _glad_ Sirius didn't marry you," Harry said hotly. "If the Blacks approved of you, you were obviously never good enough for him."

"Harry!" Ginny admonished, shocked again at his brashness. But their teacher said nothing.

"Shut up, Ginny," he snapped at her. His face was dark and angry, and she wondered if this was what he'd been like when he trashed Dumbledore's office the year before.

"Don't speak to her that way," their teacher said, quietly but sternly, surprising both teenagers. "She's not the one who deserves your anger."

"I don't care!" Harry shouted back. "I have more than enough anger to go around. Why not her? I thought she might be the one person other than Sirius who wouldn't keep things from me, but I was wrong. She'll keep secrets when it suits her, apparently." Harry was furious and it was clear that he wouldn't be calming down anytime soon.

"Believe that if you wish, but it will only hurt you in the long run, Mr. Potter." Ginny was impressed that their Defense teacher was audacious enough to be blunt with Harry when he was so emotionally volatile.

"You know that she would never knowingly hurt you, and yet you storm at her like she meant for you to suffer. You aren't ready to hear the rest of what I have to say right now, or you would also know that I would never allow harm to come to you if I could help it. I loved your mother. She was my best friend. Sirius Black was the only man I ever trusted. You won't let yourself believe me, you won't even let yourself believe your friend. Come back when you are ready to hear what I have to say."

When Professor Wrightman finished Harry just stared, alternately at their teacher and at Ginny. He seemed to be practically blind with anguish and resentment, and Ginny doubted he would be able to sort out what he'd been told before the next morning.

"You're lying to me, and I don't care what else you want to tell me. The only people who seemed to think I'm not a complete imbecile were Sirius and Remus. And Sirius is dead." He glanced bitterly at Ginny who restrained the impulse to shove him up against the wall and yell. "And I thought that at least my friends could be relied on to be straight with me, but I guess I was wrong there, too."

"Harry!" Ginny shouted to get his attention, thinking that she could at least try to defend herself, but he cut her off.

"Don't speak to me," he ordered sternly. He shot the two ladies each a disgusted look and stormed out of the room, leaving a bewildered Ginny and visibly distraught professor.

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Ginny hadn't seen or heard from Harry since he had stormed out of Professor Wrightman's office the night before. She had remained behind for a few moments following his dramatic exit, watching her very distressed teacher try to pull herself together. Apart from the sympathy Ginny felt for her, it was very disturbing to see the usually stoic woman struggle to regain her composure. For a minute or so it seemed as if the older woman didn't even know she was still in the room. She had appeared to be honestly startled to find Ginny still standing there.

"He needed to know," Ginny had said quietly in response to the silent question the professor sent her way. "He'll come around and he'll respect you for the strength you gave his mum, but he isn't ready to hear the rest yet. He will, though. I promise." And here Ginny's voice broke. "It was the same way with Sirius. But once he accepted Sirius," Ginny recalled, running through memories in her mind, "only death could keep them from each other. Once he knows how much you loved Lily, his loyalty will be fierce." And then she had left the professor's office.

As she went to bed that night, Ginny began to think that Gertrude had misjudged something just as much as Sirius had when they'd split up and argued that time she saw in the Pensieve. Sirius hadn't been able to see the influence and opportunity for good that they could achieve by completing the union between two of the most powerful families in Britain. But Gertrude had missed something as well, and Ginny wondered if maybe it had finally become clear as Harry had ranted and shouted angrily at her with the pained green eyes of her dead friend.

Ginny wondered if Gertrude finally realized that, no matter how strong your sense of honor, no matter how deeply ingrained your priorities and sense of duty, the loyalty born of love would always outlast and outshine the brand of loyalty extended only because custom required it.

Her own loyalty to Harry would always be stronger and more fierce than any loyalty she might feel toward her brother Percy, just as Sirius' loyalty to James and Lily Potter, and to their son, overwhelmed any trace of loyalty he might have felt toward his blood relations.

Ginny had fallen asleep shortly after that series of thoughts had run through her mind, finally giving her Quidditch-exhausted body and her emotionally exhausted mind a few hours of peace.

Now she sat in the common room after breakfast, chatting in a secluded corner with Kerney, Andy, and Nadine. Each of them had sworn they wouldn't tell a soul what she was about to say, and understood why once Ginny revealed her two upcoming dates with significant members of their "enemy" House. Much to her surprise, Andy was the first to speak up.

"Well, you could do a whole lot worse than Theo Nott," he commented. The Kernel joined Ginny in giving Andy a surprised and skeptical look. What may have surprised Ginny even more than Andy's comment was the fact that Nadine didn't seem to think his sentiment was at all strange.

"I'll say this for you, Gin," Kerney added, "you don't aim small, do you? First you go on a date with Duncan Moran, only the most sought-after boy in all of Gryffindor, if not the entire school. Now you score a date to Hogsmeade with Theo Nott, who might be the brightest bloke in the school, not to mention one of the most highly respected Slytherins." Ginny glared at her friend good-naturedly as the Kernel continued.

"But, on the off-chance that Theo Nott isn't the marquee attachment you were hoping for, you're going to the Seventh Year Ball with Baron Ramsey, who, besides being Quidditch Captain and the first Slytherin Head Boy in like twenty years, really _is_ the most highly respected Slytherin in Britain." _After Professor Wrightman_, Ginny thought to herself. But, being a Muggle-born witch, Kerney might not know what a society heavyweight their Defense teacher really was.

Ginny's thoughts were interrupted by two very familiar male voices shouting "_WHAT!_" at the same time. Turning slightly to see around the back of Andy's cushy, high-backed chair, Ginny could see Harry and her brother Ron struggling to lunge into the fifth-years' private conversation from behind Hermione's attempts to restrain them. In the end, it seemed that Hermione thought it best to try her luck with just keeping Ron away from the conversation, allowing Harry to practically leap over the arm of Andy's chair. His face was livid and his green eyes flashed.

"So is that it, then?" Harry asked accusingly, as if there was no one else in the vicinity. Ginny was not at all used to having his attention so directly and exclusively (and passionately) trained on her. The room felt warmer.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ginny returned defiantly. "And you're really starting irritate me with your condescending tone."

"Why wouldn't you have _told me_!" At his insistence, and deciding that he wasn't going to lower his voice any time soon, Ginny stood and grabbed his arm—which wasn't nearly as easy a thing to do as it had been over the summer—and dragged him out of the portrait hole and around the corner to an empty corridor.

"I promised Professor Wrightman I wouldn't," Ginny said sternly, turning to face him, and feeling her temper starting to simmer. "You ought to be able to understand why I couldn't break a promise like that."

"Not _that_! Everything _else_! That business with Devon! It wasn't just a joke, was it. It's a fucking possibility, isn't it. Why wouldn't you have told me that?" Harry asked angrily. "Why wouldn't you have said anything about the fact that you want to marry a _Pureblood?_"

"Are you _mad!_" Ginny yelled back, not believing what she was hearing. Her disbelief was so powerful that she didn't even stop to wonder why Harry gave a damn who she was going to marry.

"It isn't mad!" Harry insisted. "Professor Wrightman just said it wasn't crazy, and you agreed with her! It's _normal, _apparently, to contract out a marriage for a baby. So your obsession with the Slytherins—"

"_Obsession!_" Ginny repeated, incredulous, not even really processing the rest of his statement. "You've got to be kidding me with this."

"If you're going to marry one of them, why even be in Gryffindor? Why even—"

"Oh, _shut it_, you stupid prat," Ginny snapped. "Do you really think my parents would ever _make_ me marry someone? _Ever?_"

"Are you telling me your parents didn't notice that they were from two old families? That you don't still have the purest blood of practically anyone in the school?" Harry asked. Ginny couldn't say anything to that. Her parents _had_ known and she _did_ have exceptionally good blood pedigree.

"Of course they noticed. But do you honestly think that my mother's family would have chosen my blood-rich, cash-poor father to continue the sodding line? Do you really think Arthur Weasley the Muggle-lover would have been their choice?" Ginny let out a strangled noise of frustration.

"Sounds to me like that would be a pretty good reason to marry off their only daughter into one of the richest pureblood families in Britain," he shot back.

"I can't _believe_ you!" Ginny practically shrieked. Harry's eyes were blazing, but so were hers. She could feel her magic starting to churn violently. Well, if the git was going to attack her like this, he could damn well deal with the consequences. If something in the corridor exploded, it was no skin off her back. Stupid prat.

"What, you can't believe that I'd be upset to find out you're going to be auctioned off to the highest Slytherin bidder?"

She didn't even realize she had slapped him until after the loud _CRACK_ had resonated in the air for a moment. The physical outlet of her anger was probably the only thing that kept her accidental magic from exploding the statue of Merlin in the corner. As it was, the marble figure wobbled precariously on its pedestal. Harry looked completely shocked, his cheek still glowing red from the impact. Ginny's hand stung.

"I'm going to write off that last comment as temporary insanity on your part, since I can't _believe_ that you would ever disrespect my parents and your best friend like that," Ginny said with a steely voice that was nearly begging him to say otherwise. He wisely stayed silent, only nodding slightly in recognition. "Or that you'd ever think so little of _me_ that I would allow someone to choose my husband for me," she added. Harry cringed, and Ginny was relieved. She had never seen him erupt like he just had, and it was more than a little comforting to see a familiar reaction from him.

"Now you listen, and you listen well," she demanded, stepping up very close to him. "I am going to Hogsmeade next week with Theo Nott. He's a good guy, he's smart, he's handsome, and he makes me laugh until my stomach hurts. But most importantly, he _asked_. He's the same bloke you defended to Hermione last week, and the fact that he's in Slytherin shouldn't matter anymore now than it did then."

"So you'll just go out with any bloke that asks you, as long as he's first in line?" Harry asked sharply. It wasn't as aggressive as his previous questions, but there was still a hint of nastiness in this tone. There was much more nastiness in his demeanor.

"Stop being stupid," Ginny demanded. "I only went with Duncan because he caught me by surprise. You saw how that turned out. Excuse me if I was bloody surprised that anyone would ask me on a date. It's not like it had ever happened before," she reminded him angrily. She wasn't sure if the anger was at him or at herself for having to choke back tears as she admitted it.

"Neville asked you to the Yule Ball!" Harry insisted. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Yes, after he had already been turned down by _Hermione_. Really made me feel like I was the belle of the fucking Ball, Harry. Stop being such a prat." She paused and took a few deep breaths. It was obvious that Harry had some kind of a mental block about this, and she had no idea what it could be. He was acting like Ron, and there was no Earthly reason why he should. Bloody hell, hadn't they just resolved the fact that he wasn't her brother! He'd never had a problem with Theo and Baron before.

"And as for Baron, give me _one good reason_ why I shouldn't agree to be the Head Boy's date to the Seventh Year Ball! He's my friend, and I respect him—as did you, up until this ridiculous display, may I remind you. His parents were just murdered, and even if I didn't _already_ want to go with him, I wasn't about to turn him down on the day he returned to school!"

"Oh, so _that's_ it. A bloke just has to get his parents offed and you'll go out with him? No wonder you had a crush on me when you were little."

Little? _Little!_ On top of all the horrible implications of his statement, it was the last straw, and Ginny's temper exploded—as did her magic. Her first thought—a fervent _Shut UP!_—was immediately manifested as a hex, which threw him back against the wall. Not terribly hard, as it had only been a silencing curse, but certainly more forcefully than it should have been, as it knocked the wind out of him. Harry caught his breath and gaped at her. She saw him reach for his own wand, but she was too quick for him.

Her loud _Expelliarmus!_ and wrench of her hand to the side tore his wand out from his pocket and sent it flying behind her. He looked at her with a strange mix of anger, awe, and surprise. Then he seemed to catch himself and looked to where his wand lay on the ground. In an instant it was back in his hand. So he had wandless powers, too. Fancy that.

"What are you going to do, Harry, hex me?" Ginny taunted, her anger making her more bold. "You going to show me who's boss?" The thought passed through her mind that he was probably a far superior dueler, but if he wanted to have a go, she was more than willing to take out some of her frustration on him. But then something changed, and a wave of sadness washed over her as his comments finally sunk in.

She threw her wand on the floor. She was suddenly very tired, and she could feel tears rushing up to her eyes. All she wanted at that moment was to barricade herself inside her four-poster and cry. What he'd said had really hurt. She ran a hand over her face.

"I don't know what to say, Harry. I'm fifteen years old, and I haven't the slightest idea who I'm going to marry. I thought Devon's comments were just as much of a joke as you did. As it turns out, I'm friends with Baron Ramsey and Theo Nott makes me laugh. Baron looks at me like an equal and Theo looks at me like I'm worth something to him. I'd be crazy to turn them down." Harry said nothing, his features for once not betraying how he was really feeling.

Ginny shook her head and sighed. He didn't follow her back into the common room.

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Monday found Ginny and Luna walking back to the school from Hagrid's after lunch. They had nicked food from the kitchens—though perhaps saying they had "nicked" it was a bit of a stretch; Dobby had been more than obliging. The two girls had a custom of visiting their half-giant friend once every two weeks or so, and the simple fact that Hagrid had been so happy to see them served to lift Ginny's spirits a bit. Luna had acted as spaced out and odd as usual until they started the walk back to the castle.

"What's bothering you," she said, not really asking as much as stating the fact that something was obviously wrong. Ginny almost cracked a smile. Luna would always be perceptive.

"Boys are thick and they're more trouble than they're worth," Ginny decided out loud. Luna smirked.

"Which ones," she prompted. "Or should I say, what's he done this time?" she corrected.

"I should preface this by letting you know that I've recently accepted dates with two different boys," Ginny began.

"Oh?" Luna asked. Ginny had a feeling that Luna already knew about at least one of them.

"Baron Ramsey asked me to be his date to the Seventh Year Ball," Ginny replied. Luna's eyebrows raised briefly in surprise. Ah, so she must have known about Theo. "Yes, and I'm going to Hogsmeade with Theo Nott on Saturday." Luna's satisfied almost-smile confirmed her suspicions.

"Well, how about that," she answered.

"Oh, shut it," Ginny returned, with little hope of it actually occurring. Luna smiled.

"I think it's good for you. Both of them are good for you."

"You say that, and yet, the fact that I'm going on a date with each of them is completely alienating the one boy I really want, which is in turn making me completely miserable."

"Have you thought about why that might be?" Luna asked. Ginny thought that Luna could stand to be a tad less patronizing.

"Don't even suggest that he's jealous. That's ridiculous. Get it out of your head right now. There is no possible way he's acting like a complete git because two Slytherin boys beat him to the punch. He's just channeling Ron and bitter about Slytherins and resenting the hell out of everyone. Not that I don't think he deserves to vent every now and then, I just wish he didn't feel compelled to vent it on me. He can be very nasty when he wants to be." Ginny's brow furrowed as she remembered the things he had said. She hadn't seen him or spoken to him since.

"You keep thinking that if it gives you piece of mind," Luna said, smirking.

"Oh, why don't you go snog Sheldon," Ginny retorted. Luna smiled as she kept right on talking.

"I think he's discovering that he's not the only boy who's noticed you, and he's angry at himself for blowing his chances, especially since you've been right there in front of him all this time. And I think he's so sick of being brave when people are trying to kill him that he doesn't want to feel guilty about being absolutely terrified when he thinks about asking you out. But he is, and he does, and it makes him angry."

"No more talking," Ginny replied grumpily.

"But that's just me," Luna finished, as if Ginny hadn't said anything. "And I'm not very smart or the least bit perceptive." Only Luna could have managed to say such a ridiculously false statement without her mouth quirking into a smile.

Ginny groaned at her friend's obnoxious but credible inferences. She shoved her out of frustration, which sent Luna into fits of laughter. As they continued toward the school they became absorbed in a shoving match, alternately laughing and trying to knock each other over.

Luna enjoyed it because it was further proof that she had a true friend; Ginny was just glad to get Harry off her mind for a little while.

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Given the roller coaster of events that transpired over the weekend, Ginny was more than a little surprised to see Harry walk through the door of the Room of Requirement Tuesday night for their usual Potions session. Devon seemed nonplussed, despite the fact that she had been informed of the events of the weekend. Ginny had not been surprised to find that Devon knew about both of her dates, but was able to elaborate on the scuffles with Harry that had occurred in the meantime.

While Ginny gave him credit for showing up at all—and secretly gave thanks that he wasn't going to completely abandon the friendship they had finally built—it was evident that he was not at all comfortable with being there.

Luckily Devon was a pro at cutting through bullshit, and following some unbearably awkward hello's they were soon plunged into the depths of how to properly constitute an anti-swelling draught and why the characteristics of murtlap changed in a certain way when combined with something as innocuous as mint leaves. The détente was threatened, however, when they took a break for snacks and pumpkin juice.

"Hey, I need to tell you guys something," Harry spoke up tentatively.

"Ladies, Harry," Devon interrupted casually, like a mother correcting a small child's English. "Not 'guys.' We're ladies." Harry stopped in his train of thought and looked momentarily confused. Devon had interrupted his process of working up the nerve to say what he wanted to say, and it clearly discombobulated him. Ginny tried very hard not to giggle at his confusion; she didn't know how long (or how very, very short) his fuse was at the moment.

"Er, right. Ladies. Um, I can only do Potions once a week from now on. After this week, I mean. I have to do extra stuff with Dumbledore."

Ginny was skeptical. He was obviously still having issues with being around her, and she wouldn't put it past him to tough out this first meeting in order to make his life easier later on.

The thing about Harry was, he was so unsure of himself around people in general that it was hard to tell whether he was really trying to avoid her or if he was just being his usual tentative self. However, recent developments in his personality—the slightly more audacious Harry that had called out Andy after the List and had asked her who she'd chosen in the question game—pointed toward the former. Much to Ginny's chagrin.

"Okay," Devon replied as if Harry was acting completely normal. "Which day do you want to cancel?" Devon's attitude pretending that there wasn't the slightest bit of tension in the room would have been completely believable to any outside observer, but it was driving Ginny crazy. She sensed that Devon was maneuvering to force one or both of them to get their issues out on the table, and Ginny had to admit it was starting to work.

"Er, Thursdays, I guess."

"So, beginning with next week, we only meet on Tuesdays," Devon clarified, still all business. Ginny wanted to push her down the stairs. "Is that right?" Ginny froze as she saw a set of stairs suddenly appear in the corner of the room. Crap. It seemed the Room was particularly sensitive to her inclinations today.

"Er, yeah, that's right." Ginny let out a breath in relief when the stairs disappeared. _Merlin, I was being sarcastic!_ At any rate, she had to get a better grip on herself. She had a feeling they would be hashing things out before they left for the evening. If Devon had anything to say about it, and at the moment it seemed that she did. Harry was looking nervously back and forth between the pseudo-oblivious Devon and a grumpy Ginny. He must have sensed something was afoot. Well, good. Ginny didn't want him to be any more comfortable than she was.

"Perhaps we should meet for an hour longer on Tuesdays to make up for the lost time a bit," Devon suggested. If Ginny wasn't so annoyed, it would have been almost comical to watch as Devon kept forcing Harry to speak.

"Uh, okay," he agreed reluctantly.

"I propose that we meet thirty minutes earlier and end thirty minutes later," Devon continued, almost as if Harry hadn't spoken. "That way we don't cut into other activities very much." Ginny wondered if Devon really cared about saving Potions time at all or if she was merely doing this to artificially amp up the tension in the room. Somehow she doubted it was the former.

"That sounds fine, I guess," Harry agreed. By the look on his face he was definitely confused and wondering what was going on.

"I just don't want to cut into my beauty regimen any more than is necessary," Devon added, and that was where Ginny drew the line. Beauty regimen.

"Oh, for the love of Merlin!" Ginny shouted, bringing a satisfied smirk to Devon's face. Ginny turned to Harry. "Harry, are you _sure_ you're not just doing this because you're still mad at me?"

"No!" he insisted (a little too quickly, Ginny thought). "I mean, yes, I'm sure that's not the reason. Dumbledore told me I have to meet with him more often, and I won't give up Quidditch for Potions."

Ginny quirked an eyebrow in suspicion.

"I swear!" Harry said indignantly. "You can ask Ron! He was there when McGonagall came to get me."

"Well, good," Ginny replied. "I don't know what you're so worked up about anyway!" Harry's face darkened as she raised her voice.

"Well, what am I supposed to think when you're out cavorting with Slytherins!" he replied hotly. He turned to Devon. "Sorry." Devon shrugged. She was too busy watching the show to care for a swipe at her House that Harry probably didn't mean anyway.

"Cavorting! What is the matter with you? Why can't I go on a bloody date without you and Ron starting a world war over it?" Ginny wanted very much to know. "You stood in this room just a few weeks ago, defending my friendships with Theo and Baron and Devon to Ron and Hermione. What's so wrong with them now? What's different now from a week ago?"

"You weren't going to marry one of them a week ago!" he shouted. "You weren't living by some stupid list of Slytherins who _she_ says you're allowed to love!" Harry pointed accusingly at Devon on the word _she_. Devon cut in finally, her calm but authoritative voice silencing Ginny and Harry immediately.

"Harry, you're not an artless jerk, so don't act like it. And while you're at it, you might recall that you were included on the list and you're not a Pureblood. You were one of the top two I proposed, in fact. Don't put words in Ginny's mouth. It doesn't do anyone any good, and does you the least good of all." Devon seemed to grow a bit impatient as she continued setting him straight.

"Besides, you know very well that the day might come when you will be thankful to have true allies in Slytherin, and Ginny's relationships with Baron and Theo are your best prospects other than me. The Ramseys and the Caldwells are both extremely powerful families, and neither Baron and Gretchen, nor Theo have any affection for the Dark Lord."

Harry looked back and forth between Devon and Ginny suspiciously, as if they had ganged up on him, which Ginny supposed they kind of did. Only, it wasn't like Ginny had up and asked Devon to intervene; their sly friend had simply called it like she saw it, as she tended to do.

As Harry entertained female conspiracy theories, Devon watched with a condescending expression on her face that plainly demonstrated how thick she thought he was being. Ginny was trying to look surprised that Devon had spoken. When it became clear that Harry wasn't in any hurry to speak, Devon picked up the slack again.

"The last thing I'll say on the subject is this: Ginny will never marry Baron or Theo unless her first choice dies before he realizes what's important."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he snapped. Ginny's face was in her hands. For once she was glad he was thick. Devon had just given her away. Oh the humanity. There was a small part of her that just wanted to end the suffering on her end and slap him upside the head while yelling that she was in love with him. Idiot.

"Use your somewhat undersized Gryffindor brain and figure it out," Devon scolded.

"The hat wanted to put me in Slytherin, you know!" Harry insisted defensively.

"But you used your undersized Gryffindor brain to argue against that didn't you?" Harry didn't say anything, which was enough of an answer for Devon, who smirked. "Thank you for proving my point for me."

Harry was thoroughly put out, but it was more because he had no retort for Devon's last statement than because he harbored any lingering anger at Ginny. At least he seemed to have comprehended the fact that Ginny wasn't all but running down the aisle with various Slytherins.

"Now, shall we get back to work?" Devon proposed. "We should really finish intermediate medical potions this week if our meeting time is going to be cut down." And back to work they went, Harry periodically glancing at Ginny, and Ginny trying not to notice when he did.

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	13. Coming to a Head

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:** Thanks so much for the comments and feedback. I sincerely apologize for the long wait, but hopefully a nice, long, action-packed chapter will get me back in your good graces. Enjoy! And no, Gertrude did not marry Christian. This chapter is (long overdue and) dedicated to Grimm Sister, because she's a brilliant writer and a great H-Pot friend. Now, on with the story.

**CHAPTER 12**

**Coming to a Head **

Ginny and Harry were walking solemnly back to the Gryffindor common room from the Defense classroom, having had a second, much more peaceful conference with Professor Wrightman. Their cheeks were tear-stained and their eyes were red, but there was no trace of sadness in their expressions. His face was the picture of grim but bolstered determination; hers of ferocity and fire.

The two teenagers had sat quietly while their Defense professor explained to Harry the extent of her relationship with both his mother and his godfather. When she seemed to have finished, Harry softly spoke, asking the first of many questions that he had for her about Lily and Sirius, and even James. And in answering that first question, Gertrude Wrightman finally saw what Ginny had told her she would find once Harry got over the initial shock of who she was: she saw a hardening regard and a heightened respect that she couldn't help but return.

And how could she not?

With Lily's eyes, her humility, her utter selflessness, and the same incredible knack for attracting the unconditional loyalty of everyone he befriended, and with his unwavering trust and love for Sirius, Gertrude finally allowed herself to feel the kinship with Harry that she had kept at bay for her entire adult life. And she saw the steadfast, fervent, and almost wild devotion of the person at his side.

She knew that devotion, that bottomless affection, that lightening of the eyes and the heightened awareness that transformed Ginny's countenance when Harry walked into a room. It may be appearing on a young woman now, instead of a young man, but it was unnervingly familiar nonetheless.

Harry had apologized before they sat down—meekly and honestly as was his way—and they had proceeded as if nothing had happened.

They were passing the Great Hall, both teenagers deep in thought, when Harry stopped suddenly and went to open one of the Hall doors. Ginny hesitated and followed, stopping when she came up behind where he was leaning against the doorframe. She squeezed in next to him, and he glanced at her before returning his gaze to the Hall.

"I've always wondered what this place was like when my parents were here," he said, finally. He spoke so quietly that she had to lean in to hear him clearly; it was hard to tell whether he was talking to her or to himself. "Like, were my dad and Sirius like the twins? Once I saw what they did to Snape, and how much my mum seemed not to like them, I couldn't ever be sure that they were as good as everyone says."

"Well, people always exaggerate goodness or evil a bit when other people die. Your parents were seen as heroes, so naturally everyone remembered the best parts of them. But for Sirius, since everyone thought he had betrayed them, everyone exaggerated his flaws."

"Except for Remus and Professor Wrightman."

"_Especially_ Remus and Professor Wrightman." At this Harry turned his head quickly to look at her curiously. "Harry, think. What was your first reaction to Sirius when you heard that he had betrayed your parents?" Harry paused as he recalled his thoughts, and then nodded in realization.

"I was furious," he conceded.

"And you didn't even know him yet. Imagine how they must have felt. Remus was his best friend. And remember last time? Professor Wrightman said that Sirius was the only man she ever trusted." Harry frowned. "And the ones who hated him the most, the Death Eaters, Bellatrix, and Voldemort? They all _knew_ it could never have been him. And you can bet that Bellatrix and Voldemort probably exaggerated his goodness. Of course, they hated him, too. Just for the opposite reason." Harry sighed.

"So what am I supposed to think?"

"Very few things are as black-and-white as we'd like them to be. Take Snape. Is he an enormous git? Sure, he is. But he puts his life on the line every day for the Order, and in particular, to keep _you_ alive. So what does that make him? He hated your father and your godfather, he called your mother a Mudblood, and as far as we can tell, he doesn't seem to be any more inclined to like you either. But he's brilliant, and he's on our side. In a pinch, we can be on the same team, and we could probably work together. But if someone asked you about him, you'd probably say that you hate him. Or that he's a mean bastard."

"So my parents and Sirius weren't perfect. I get it." Ginny smiled.

"Actually, as far as I can tell, your mum nearly _was_ perfect. I have never heard a single negative thing about her. Not from Professor Wrightman, not from Sirius, not from Remus, not from anyone." Harry seemed to calm a little at this observation. He was quiet for a while, and Ginny couldn't be sure what was going through his mind. After a bit, he cast his gaze around the Great Hall, lingering on each of the House tables one by one.

"I love this room," he said at last. "Not as much as the common room or my dormitory, or even the Quidditch locker room, but I feel like I can trace my life through this room."

"I'd agree with you there," Ginny added, "but I think I would add the Room of Requirement and the Kitchens to your list." Harry smiled at the mention of them. There certainly hadn't been any bad memories for either of them in those two rooms. Nodding and smiling—obviously running through pleasant memories—Harry backed away from the doors, and Ginny fell into step with him as they resumed their trip back to the Tower.

"So," he said when they were approaching the Fat Lady. Ginny glanced at him and he slowed to a stop just outside where the Fat Lady would be able to hear them.

"So?" Ginny asked expectantly. Harry looked up and directly into her eyes.

"So, tomorrow's Hogsmeade," he elaborated . . . somewhat. Ah, yes. Hogsmeade. That would explain the slightly obtuse conversational skills.

"Yes, it is."

"And you're going to Hogsmeade with Theo Nott."

"Yes."

"On a date."

"Yes." Then, to Ginny's surprise, Harry cracked a small smile.

"Okay, I just wanted to clear that up. So now hopefully I won't come and sit down at your bloody table and order you butterbeers like an enormous git." Ginny laughed. Harry looked rather proud of himself for being the cause.

"Even if you did, I rather doubt that Theo would be as ungracious as Duncan."

"Of course he wouldn't. He's quite a catch, that Theo Nott." And here, though Harry was making a commendable effort to be good-humored, Ginny could tell that he still wasn't particularly pleased about her date. His smile didn't reach his eyes—not by a long shot.

"Well, at least I don't think he would cheer against me in Quidditch," Ginny joked, hoping that the reference to Michael Corner, who neither of them particularly liked, would lighten the mood. It helped a little.

"That's true," Harry agreed. There was a somewhat tense pause, in which it seemed like Harry was deciding whether to tell her what was preoccupying him.

"Harry," Ginny prompted, as unobtrusively as she could manage. He looked up at her again. "Is there something on your mind?" She bit her lip as she anxiously waited for him to answer. He took a few moments before answering, and seemed to be examining her face.

"Do you like him a lot?" he asked, almost whispering, but maintaining eye contact with her. It was as if by whispering, the question wasn't as big of a deal. Ginny wasn't sure how to answer. She felt a fleeting urge to try and make Harry jealous, but given his personality, she doubted that would help her cause with him. But she also didn't want Harry to think that she didn't care about Theo.

"I do like him a lot." A nearly imperceptible flinch went through him. "I'm not sure how much that is, though. He's not like most boys I know." She paused for effect. "Then again, neither are you." Harry's gaze snapped forward to meet her own.

If only they knew that the same thought was passing through each of their minds: _Too bad this is the last Hogsmeade trip of the year_.

"Ginny," he began, in somewhat of a rush. "If . . . I mean to say, would you . . . that is, do you think that . . . Oh, _bollocks_." He shoved his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor. Ginny's heart was beating so fast she thought it might burst out of her chest. Harry glanced at the portrait as if he were seriously considering making a break for it. Ginny wasn't sure what he had been so anxiously tempted to ask her, but she didn't want to discourage him, whatever it was.

"Harry?" she ventured softly. He instinctively looked up at the sound of her voice, before remembering his embarrassment and fixing his gaze somewhere in the proximity of Ginny's shoulder.

"Er, yeah?"

"I'm hungry. Let's go to the Kitchens." He visibly sighed with relief. And then he actually smiled.

"All right." He held out his hand. "Let's go to the Kitchens." She took his hand and off they went.

- - - - - - -

Ginny and Theo met up in front of the Great Hall the next day just after breakfast. Ginny found that she couldn't stop smiling. Theo appeared to be exceedingly—albeit quietly—pleased with himself. They walked and chatted about a number of things, including Potions, various members of Theo's House, Quidditch, and their families.

Unlike her date with Duncan, Ginny found that their conversation made the trip pass by quite rapidly. Before she knew it, they were approaching Quality Quidditch Supplies, where Theo noticed her pretending not to look at the window display. Smirking pleasantly, he asked her if she would like to browse, and once she admitted that she did, opened the door to let them inside.

They spent quite a while in the shop, and Ginny found that although he did not play himself, Theo was very knowledgeable and very interested in the game. His team was the Kenmare Kestrels which, while not the Chudley Cannons, was evidence that he was a true fan and not a bandwagon-type.

He explained that while he loathed everything about his parents and all associated with them, he had first been introduced to Quidditch when he was very young, and as the Nott estate is located in County Kerry in southwestern Ireland, Kenmare was the local team and the natural object of his undying allegiance. He also elaborated that, while he spent most of his holidays with his Caldwell relations, whose ancestral estate was situated in Northern Ireland, he never took to supporting their team, the Ballycastle Bats.

As they continued to stop and check out many of the items in the store, the first two games of Gryffindor's season, as well as the approaching match with Hufflepuff, came up several times.

While he certainly had his own opinions, Ginny was pleased to discover that he wasn't like Ron and Michael Corner in the sense that he could respect someone else's views without necessarily agreeing. Quidditch discussions with Ron (and with Michael, when she was still dating him) always deteriorated into angry shouting matches because those two boys always had to be right.

When Ginny had seen her fill, they left the store and walked to the Three Broomsticks on Theo's suggestion. Ginny was thrilled that he didn't even glance in the direction of Madam Puddifoot's.

Ginny volunteered to order them butterbeers from the bar, while Theo agreed to find them a booth. Both the fact that he was a relatively mysterious Slytherin sixth-year and the fact that he had walked into the pub with Ginny Weasley in full view of all the student patrons made Theo's task significantly easier than it would have been for the average student. Ginny matched Rosmerta's smile as she approached the bar.

"So, who is it this time?" Rosmerta inquired, indirectly alluding to Ginny's last date with Duncan Moran. Ginny smiled this time rather than rolling her eyes.

"Theo Nott. He's my partner in Potions." Madam Rosmerta's eyebrows lifted slightly in recognition of Ginny's good humor.

"Well you certainly seem better pleased with him than the last bloke you brought in here," the hostess commented. Ginny's expression displayed her agreement and relief.

"Definitely. It probably helps that I actually like him." Rosmerta laughed.

"Yes, I think that would make dating a bit easier." Ginny's face seemed glued into a smile. Rosmerta lifted their drinks to the counter.

"We'll be having lunch in a bit, but no rush," Ginny said. "Thanks for the drinks!" Rosmerta nodded in recognition and Ginny turned to find Theo and their table. This action was violently disrupted by someone knocking into Ginny as she turned, thoroughly soaking her bare arm in butterbeer.

"Neville!" a familiar voice chastised. Ginny looked up to see a horrified Neville and, behind him, a concerned-looking Harry. Luna was standing somewhat to the side, but was obviously with their party.

"Sorry, Ginny!" Neville cried, picking up the mug that had fallen to the floor at their collision. Luna reached her wand around to cast a drying spell on Ginny's wet arm.

"Thanks," Ginny said to her in response. Then she turned to Neville with a small smile. "No harm done, Neville. Accidents happen. I'll just get new drinks." Then her gaze found Harry. "Hey, Harry." He didn't quite smile, but certainly didn't look displeased to see her either.

"Hey, Gin. Sorry about this."

"No worries, Harry," she assured him. Glancing at his company, Ginny's smile broadened. "I see you've found some good company this time. Did the other two run off again and leave you in the dark?" Harry laughed.

"Yes, I have, and yes they did."

"Well I'm glad about the first part, and I don't really know what to say about the other thing," Ginny responded thoughtfully. "Do you think we should clue them in that we know?" Harry shrugged.

"I can't decide if it would horrify them or relieve them to know that we know."

"I think they deserve a little of both, to tell you the truth," Ginny said. Harry smiled wryly.

"I think I agree with you."

"Then maybe we can let them know tomorrow," she suggested.

"Sounds like a plan," Harry agreed, smiling slightly. He held her gaze for a moment and then looked to his two companions. Neville was turning from the bar with new drinks for Ginny, and Luna was speaking to him as he did so. When Ginny turned to thank Neville for fetching the butterbeers, she thought she saw Harry sneak a glance at Theo sitting by himself in a booth in a far corner of the pub.

"Thanks Neville, you needn't have done that." Neville smiled sheepishly.

"It was the least I could do for dumping the first ones all over you." Ginny smiled and said goodbye to him and Luna. Luna responded cheerfully that Ginny should remember to avoid kissing people because, if not done exclusively to one's soul mate, it could cause a person to sprout warts on their arms. Harry's face (and, Ginny suspected, her own) was flushed red when they turned to each other to part ways. Ginny couldn't tell if Luna was hinting at something or just being spacey as usual. Harry cleared his throat nervously.

"Erm, see you later Ginny. Have . . . I hope you have a nice time today." Ginny smiled, though not without a considerable degree of self-consciousness.

"Thanks, Harry. I'll see you at dinner." And with that, she took the drinks back to the table where Theo was waiting for her. Ginny hoped Luna wouldn't decide to take matters into her own hands on the subject of her and Harry, and any feelings they may or may not have for each other. When she arrived at the booth Theo had commandeered, the young man looked very much like he had been observing the entire exchange from across the room. His first words to her were a bit startling.

"Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood were the other two students who went with you to the Department of Mysteries last year, weren't they?" he asked. Ginny blinked.

"Ah, yes, they were. Do people not know that?" she confirmed and wondered aloud. She had thought that, between Dumbledore and the _Daily Prophet_, most of the wizard families had gotten some sketch of what had gone on at the Ministry of Magic the previous June. Perhaps she had been mistaken.

"No, most people don't know that, I reckon. The Prophet only said six students including Harry Potter were involved in the events that occurred in the Department of Mysteries. From my family I know that you, your brother, and Hermione Granger were three of the others, but I didn't know that Longbottom and Lovegood were the final two." Ginny's brow furrowed. "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone." Ginny's eyebrows rose slightly as if she did not quite believe him.

"Okay, so perhaps I might say something about it to Devon Pearce." Ginny smirked knowingly. Did they already know each other so well?

"I know," she replied. "And if you happened to mention it to the Ramseys or Professor Wrightman, I would not see a problem. But that is really as far as it ought to go." Theo assured her of his discretion and their conversation took a different, though no less intriguing turn.

"I get the impression that Harry is not particularly pleased that you accepted a date with me," he commented, in the way one might suggest that it might rain later. His manner disarmed Ginny momentarily, since she was still not quite used to such directness in the discussion of awkward subjects.

"Um, I'm not quite sure how I'm supposed to respond to that," she admitted. Theo nodded in apparent agreement.

"I mention this because he has never paid me much attention during the nearly six years we've been in school together, but ever since you agreed to spend the day with me today, he has, shall I say, been much more attentive of my existence."

"Well, he can be very protective when it comes to Ron and my family," Ginny said, not at all convincingly. She didn't particularly care how convincing she was, though, since she hardly knew how she wanted to respond in the first place.

"I don't think that is where his particular concern stems from, in your case," Theo replied, with no small amount of insinuation in his tone. Ginny gulped. _Oh, not Theo, too_. First Hermione, then Luna, and now Theo? Was her date really attempting to tell her that Harry was jealous? Ginny was a bit tired of waiting for Theo to come to his point.

"Then what _do_ you think, Theo?" she began, her voice rising slightly. "That Harry likes me? That he's jealous because I've come to Hogsmeade with you instead of him? Don't be ridiculous. He's seen me practically every day for the last four years. He had plenty of opportunities to ask, and what's more, he knew I had a thing for him when I was younger. It would have been a right sure thing to ask me to Hogsmeade, but he never did. There's no way that he cares that much about who I go to Hogsmeade with."

Okay, so maybe that was a lie. He had brought it up the previous night, and she certainly remembered the way his eyes never seemed to match his supportive remarks. Theo looked skeptical.

"Would it still be a sure thing?" Theo asked, shaking Ginny from her ambivalent inner monologue.

"_What!_" she replied, her voice reaching heights in pitch that she hadn't previously known to exist.

"It's a simple question. I would merely like to know where I stand." For the love of Merlin, they hadn't even ordered lunch yet, and he's asking where he rates? Couldn't she at least get a whole date in the books before the boy-wackiness started up again? What was it with her dates and the moments just before they ordered lunch?

"Well, seeing as we haven't even been on a whole date yet, how about I let you know by the end of the day?" Theo paused for a moment and then nodded.

"That seems reasonable," he conceded. Ginny was flabbergasted. Did all Slytherins take so direct an approach to romantic relationships? At first the attentions of Baron Ramsey and Theo had been refreshing in their frankness, but now Ginny wasn't sure she could take much more of this. They had been growing closer and getting to know each other at such a nice pace, and now he'd gone and nearly spoiled it.

"Put it this way," she began, pausing to make sure she actually wanted to say what was on the tip of her tongue. "You and Harry are the only boys that I would agree to go to Hogsmeade alone with, where I would actually look forward to the trip. But seeing as he didn't ask me, and you did, what he thinks doesn't much matter at the moment, does it?"

At this submission, Theo's face curved into the somewhat sly, somewhat triumphant grin that only she—though Ginny didn't know it—could bring out in him.

"No," he admitted, "I suppose it doesn't."

And with that, Madam Rosmerta arrived at their table to take their lunch orders. Ginny and Theo thought about and looked at nothing but each other until late afternoon when they began the trip back to Hogwarts, and when, unfortunately, there was indeed quite a bit more to think about and look upon besides each other.

- - - - - - -

Ginny and Theo were walking casually up a small hill as they left the outskirts of the wizarding village. The turrets of the castle and the Quidditch rings came into sight as they overtook the mound, but any musings they might have shared with each other were cut off by a particularly urgent yell.

"_Ginny, look out!_" Harry shouted, and by pure instinct Ginny fell to the ground, eyes searching out danger and arms groping for Theo, who she had tugged down with her. She heard footsteps pounding and glanced up to see Neville and Harry rushing to meet . . .

_Dementors._

Six of them. Coming out of the small patch of woods that ran up one side of the small hill. Harry kept glancing toward her, and Ginny thought that if he kept it up, he might get himself killed—or, seeing as they were dealing with Dementors, much, much worse. As she looked down at Theo, she caught Luna's slight form running to stand with Harry and Neville in her peripheral vision. She glanced at her somewhat startled date.

"Can you conjure a proper Patronus?" she asked him quickly. He nodded briskly, his face all business. "What form does it take?" She had to be sure, for everyone's safety, but for Theo's in particular.

"A dolphin," he replied immediately.

"Then let's go help them," she said, rising and pulling him up with her.

Just as she did, he pulled her back down and rolled them over. Simultaneously, Ginny felt the temperature plummet. There were more of them. Without thinking, Ginny hugged Theo tightly—much to his distraction and not unpleasant surprise—and whispered the Apparation spell, whisking them across the mound just as she could feel the coldness creeping in again. They reappeared about fifteen behind the other three, and Ginny was almost immediately on her feet. Harry, Neville, and Luna were starting to feel the pressure of holding the Patronus charm for a long period of time.

"_Expecto Patronum!_" Theo's voice rang out, followed quickly by Ginny's own.

Only, where Theo's dolphin came wooshing out of the end of his wand, Ginny's Patronus sputtered. _Need a happy memory_, she chastised herself. What was the one she'd used with Remus? Oh yes, the Chamber of Secrets. Suddenly images of giant serpents, mysterious older boys, and clumsy saviors filled her head, and as she began to re-live the joy of seeing Harry arrive to save her in her mind, she heard faint shouts around her. Her head cleared briefly, reminding her of the danger at hand, and she dropped her wand, thrusting out her arm and pointing with only a finger at the rushing Dementors on pure instinct.

"_Expecto Patronum!_" she thundered, and Harry came swooping forth, much like the real version was apt to do on his broom. Patronus Harry went at the now ten Dementors, slashing at them with his sword, and joining Harry's stag, Theo's dolphin, Neville's thick vines, and Luna's unicorn in their swirling battle with the Dementors. Suddenly Harry's stag fizzled and Ginny looked to find him staring at her in utter disbelief.

So he'd seen her bloody Patronus at last. Well now he'd regret teasing her about it, wouldn't he? But there was no time to be humiliated with twice their number in Dementors trying to get at them. They were much weaker with Harry's Patronus out of the picture, and Ginny struggled to hold up her own charm with one hand while she shoved Harry hard to the ground with the other, knocking him out of his temporary shock.

"Get up! We need your Patronus!" she insisted, and Harry snapped back into Boy-Who-Lived mode. With one smoldering look at her—a look that sent shivers up her spine—he closed his eyes and re-cast his Patronus, conjuring a stag nearly twice as big and more than twice as bright as the other charms. Ginny briefly wondered what memory he had used to cast the spell.

Patronus Prongs gored Dementor after Dementor, drawing their attention away from the others, and allowing the other four teenagers to pause and re-cast them. This second casting drew brighter and larger Patronuses from Neville, Ginny, Luna, and Theo, but none were as grand or as blinding as Harry's. They had all used different memories this time around; Ginny's had been a recollection of the time they had first found Herpo in her bathroom messing about in the toilet paper at Spinner's End.

Though they were holding out pretty well so far, Ginny knew they wouldn't be able to last very long, and the Dementors would be ready to pounce on them when their charms gave out. Harry must have realized this, too, because Ginny heard him call out.

"_Theo, can you Apparate?_" he shouted over the noise from their struggle.

"_Yes!_" the answer came back, and Ginny heard her name next. The wind seemed to have picked up significantly.

"_Ginny! You'll have to Apparate yourself and Luna to the castle gates! Theo and I will get Neville!_" Ginny nodded. It was becoming downright blustery now—not to mention cold—and the wind was almost completely swallowing their words. Ginny put three fingers in the air, and counted them down, running toward Luna as she did. On zero she practically leapt onto her friend and shouted "_Apparatus!_" in the slight hope that yelling the incantation would add power to the spell.

Before she could blink, the two of them landed with a significant thud at the gates to the castle and they rushed inside, screaming alternately for Professor McGonagall, Professor Wrightman, Professor Snape, and the Headmaster. When they had made it half-way to the large doors of the castle, they heard a loud crack, and turned to see the three boys tumble out of thin air at the foot of the gate.

Luna screamed as they both noticed that one of the Dementors had gotten through the Apparation with them, and still had a firm grip on Harry's ankle. This sent Ginny and Luna running back toward the gate, but not before Ginny sent a strong Reductor Curse toward the large heavy doors of the school. One of the doors exploded, and Ginny hoped it would attract the attention of a faculty member in time to help them.

Theo had already cast a Patronus by the time they reached the boys, and it looked like Harry was able to wrest his ankle away from the Dementor. But as Ginny looked up to see whether any teachers were coming to help them, she noticed that the several Dementors they had left on the other side of the hill were fast approaching. There was no Apparating on Hogwarts grounds, but she had to hope that there would be some kind of protection against the dark creatures inside the gates of the school.

"RUN!" she yelled, yanking on the nearest arms she could reach, which turned out to be Luna's and Harry's. She took off with the other four fast on her heels. Harry soon overtook her, and by the time they were half-way to the doors of the castle they saw Dumbledore and Professor Wrightman appear in the area around the damaged door. If she hadn't been panting from an outright sprint, Ginny would have sighed with relief.

The thought briefly crossed her mind that she could be severely punished for damaging school property.

Professor Wrightman spotted them first, pointing and drawing Dumbledore's attention. At nearly the same time, Ginny felt someone tug on her shirt, and she stopped running. It was Neville, and Ginny turned with the others to see Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick emerge from the side of the castle, casting powerful Patronus charms to give the teenagers some cover. The five of them shared a look and jogged the rest of the way to the headmaster.

Still not particularly comfortable with Dumbledore, Ginny began spilling the story of what happened to Professor Wrightman. They were all ushered inside the castle as she spoke, and Dumbledore transfigured the remnants of the old door into a new one. They were eventually led up to Dumbledore's office, with Ginny explaining all the while. During a pause when Ginny was nearing the end of her tale, Dumbledore inserted a question.

"And how did one of our front doors come to explode off of its hinges?" he asked her not unkindly. The three boys seemed surprised that the destruction of the door had anything to do with their encounter. Ginny swallowed and took a deep breath, glancing at Professor Wrightman for reassurance. The Defense professor didn't look angry, and Ginny took that to be a good sign.

"Well, when Luna and I were running to get to the castle," Ginny began, "we were screaming for help, but with the wind and the distance to the castle, I thought it was unlikely we would be heard. Once we saw that a Dementor had come through with the boys, we had to go back and help, and the only thing I could think of to get your attention was blowing up the castle door. And I supposed it worked, because here you are."

Dumbledore pondered this and Professor Wrightman sent Ginny the slightest of nods. Ginny hoped rather than believed it was a nod of approval. But what else could they have done? Sent and owl? _Honestly_. Dumbledore put his head in the fireplace, and from the hushed sounds Ginny could make out, it sounded like he was floo-calling the Ministry. Well good, perhaps the Ministry of Magic would still be good for something.

They spent the better part of an hour in Dumbledore's office answering questions. Professor McGonagall returned at that point, to report that the Dementors had been contained by Aurors and were presently being transported away from the school grounds. This news allowed Ginny a small bit of relief, though she was hardly confident that either the Aurors or the people of Britain would be particularly safe. When McGonagall and Flitwick departed, a silence descended over the five students and two faculty members. After a moment, the headmaster spoke.

"I must admit, I rather expected Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley to be involved in this little adventure, and not Mr. Nott," he observed. Harry and Ginny shared a look, since they had an idea as to what might account for the absence.

"Well, we're not quite sure where they are at the moment," Ginny began. Harry looked as if he might smile, but it was interrupted by a shiver. After-effects of exposure to Dementors, no doubt. Noticing this, Professor Wrightman disappeared briefly behind some shelves at the far end of the room, and returned with numerous chunks of Honeyduke's chocolate. Harry's eyes widened with approval, and he looked relieved. They thanked their teacher, who resumed her seat. Harry spoke up after swallowing his first few bites of candy.

"Actually, we haven't seen them since last night. Ron was gone when I woke up this morning." The two instructors glanced at each other, not looking alarmed, but perhaps preliminarily cautious.

"We're pretty sure we know what they're up to, though," Ginny interjected, to ease the adults' concern.

"Oh?" Professor Wrightman spoke this time. "And what reason do you suppose they have for disappearing?"

"I think what Harry and Ginny are alluding to is the fact that Weasley and Granger fancy each other and go off to . . . er . . . express their mutual affection behind Harry's back," Theo responded when neither Harry nor Ginny looked particularly inclined to explain.

"Ah," Dumbledore rejoined. "I see. Well, just to be safe, I think we'll fetch them anyway." He sent Fawkes off with the task. Harry and Ginny both looked slightly impressed that Theo had caught on so quickly. Or maybe Ron and Hermione were just as bloody obvious to everyone else as they were to Harry and Ginny.

This course of action decided upon, the five students were dismissed and sent back to their dormitories. Neville begged off to check on a special project he was doing for Professor Sprout, and Luna parted with them almost immediately, as the Ravenclaw dormitories were in an altogether different section of the castle. This was how Ginny was left solely in the company of Harry and Theo. _Awkward_.

"So," Ginny said, turning to begin walking away from the headmaster's office. Behind her back the boys shared a glance as if to say _Does she really think she's getting away so easily? _They were both curious, and both determined to be satisfied about that curiosity. When they didn't follow her, Ginny stopped and turned. "Well, are you coming?"

"I think perhaps we should discuss some things first," Theo offered. Ginny's brow furrowed, and then her eyebrows shot up as she realized that the whole lot of them had seen her Patronus. _Oh bloody fuck. Well. The jig is up, I suppose_.

"You do?" she returned, stalling without any real effort to disguise it.

"Yes, we do," Harry agreed.

"Then talk," Ginny prompted. Harry and Theo looked at each other, each in the hopes that the other wanted to speak first. When it became apparent that this was obviously not the case, Harry sighed and began working up the nerve.

"Your Patronus," he began a little nervously, but looked to be gaining resolve. Ginny's jaw hardened in an attempt to keep herself from blushing. "Was that . . . _me_?"

Ginny supposed the fact that he was surprised rather than horrified was something to be relieved about.

"Yes." Harry looked like he might collapse. Theo broke momentarily from his thoroughly pensive expression to glance at Harry with slight concern as to his ability to remain upright. They both looked back at Ginny when she spoke up again.

"It shouldn't be a surprise, should it?" she went on, sounding much more even and confident than she felt. "Did you notice the sword you were carrying? It was the one you had when you came to get me in the Chamber of Secrets. A Patronus is a protective charm. It's not much of a stretch to think that the person who saved my life when I was a child symbolizes safety and protection to my subconscious." She wondered if she had sounded as matter-of-fact as she hoped.

"But it wasn't my 12-year old self who came out, it was me as I am now," Harry returned.

"Well, when I see you and think about you, it's usually the way you are now, yeah?" Ginny answered a little defensively. "It's not like I think of you as still being twelve years old." _Unlike the way some people—Mum and Ron—still think about me_.

"You think about me?" Harry said, barely above a whisper, eyes hopeful. Theo scowled. Ginny blushed.

"Er . . . well, of course I do," Ginny began, not at all sure what to say. She didn't want to deny it and give Harry the idea that she only wanted to be his friend, but she also didn't want to hurt Theo. "We have most of our activities together, and we even have a class together now. You are part of most of the things that are important to me." This didn't seem to mollify Theo very much. He appeared to be thinking very hard about something.

"Oh," Harry said. Ginny couldn't tell if he was sad about her explanation, or if he was still just surprised at the admission. Just then, Theo walked up to her and, right there in front of Harry, lifted up her chin, looked her in the eyes, and kissed her.

While certainly unexpected, it was not the least bit unpleasant. In fact, it was very, very nice.

As she began to respond, one hand came up around her waist and another softly held the side of her face. When he went to deepen the kiss, he found that her mouth was already slightly open and waiting. Upon making this discovery, he moaned quietly and plunged in with control and no small amount of enthusiasm. He was fluid and not sloppy, strong without being overly forceful, and had obviously done this before. Her right hand grabbed a handful of his shirt in the front, and her left attempted to steady herself by holding onto his hip.

A few moments later, two things happened—They heard the sound of someone walking away down the corridor and their lungs began to burn for air. It took Ginny a second to realize that the person quickly retreating down the hallway was Harry, and she wrenched herself backwards out of Theo's semi-embrace, eyes wide.

Theo looked more unkempt than she had ever seen him, and it suited him. His shirt was a little wrinkled, it had come untucked in places, and one of the buttons had come undone. He was panting and so was she. Ginny was torn between slamming Theo up against a wall to resume their previous activity and running after Harry to explain. _Sod it all_, she thought to herself. She and Theo hadn't taken their eyes off each other. Ginny gulped and made her decision.

"_That_ was incredible," she said with honest affection, wide eyes, and small smile. Then she took off at a run down the hall after Harry.

- - - - - - -

After running for a solid five minutes, Ginny came into sight of the Fat Lady and shouted the password from about ten yards away so that it would swing open and she wouldn't have to slow down. With a quick glance around the common room, she took off up the stairs toward the sixth-year boys' dormitory.

Wondering if he would have locked it, she slammed up against the door and tried the handle. Nothing doing. Backing up to try again, she waved her hand in the appropriate movement and shouted "_Alohomora!_" When she tried the door again, she went stumbling inside to find Harry by one of the windows, looking startled and then furious.

"What are _you_ doing here!" he demanded, just short of shouting. Ginny had rarely seen him so angry. Ginny threw a quiet "_Colloportus!_" at the door.

"You took off! What was I _supposed_ to do?" she demanded back.

"You seemed pretty well occupied when I left," he responded scathingly.

"_He_ kissed _me_!" Ginny yelled, pointing toward the door, presumably to indicate Theo.

"You weren't exactly hesitating to kiss him back!" Harry shouted. He was breathing hard, and looked like he was either going to blast her out of the room or burst into tears. It was at this moment that Ginny could no longer contain the frustration she had been feeling about Harry's resentment toward her recent romantic entanglements.

"Well, maybe I _wanted_ to!" she roared back, tears starting to well in her eyes, her voice choking up a bit. "Maybe I like being kissed by handsome boys who care about me! Maybe I like feeling desirable! You have no right to be angry with me for that!"

"YES I DO!" he insisted, appearing on the verge of tears. His cheeks were flushed with emotion and through her own rage and frustration, Ginny thought he might be shaking.

"What right do you have?" Ginny returned angrily. "As we have discussed many times, you are _not_ my brother, and you certainly have never expressed any interest in any _other_ role in my life that would give you a right to be angry!"

At this response, Harry's whole countenance fell. The room went from barely containing their shouts to dead silence in an instant. Ginny was trying with all her might to keep from sobbing, and Harry just stared at the floor. When he finally looked up, he looked nearly as broken as when Sirius had been killed. Tears began silently streaming down Ginny's face.

"You're right," he said quietly. "I haven't."

With one last look at her, he went over to his four-poster and sat on the edge, staring into space. His expression was a strange mix of disbelief, frustration, and utter sadness. Herpo appeared out of nowhere and made his way onto Harry's lap. Harry began stroking and petting his cat mindlessly, barely glancing down at him in recognition.

Ginny stood there watching the boy and his cat for nearly five minutes before she decided that Harry had nothing more to say to her. Only when she turned to leave and had her hand on the doorknob, did he finally speak up.

"Don't go," he said with a slight sense of urgency in his tone. Hand still on the doorknob, Ginny turned back to him to find both Harry and Herpo watching her. When she didn't say anything, Harry sighed and looked back at his lap. After a few more moments of silence, Ginny went to turn the knob.

"Why does everything have to be so hard?" Harry asked out loud. The question was one of frustration, but it was laced with an edge of bitterness that Ginny had never heard from him before. It reminded her of the resentment she had occasionally heard in Sirius' voice when he had been forced to stay at Grimmauld Place for so long. Somehow she doubted anyone else had ever heard it from Harry.

Out of most people the question would sound like immature whining, but from Harry, who Ginny knew really did have an unbelievably difficult go of it, it only made her heart ache. Nothing in this boy's life was easy, except for Quidditch. The least she could do was answer him.

"I suppose some things just wouldn't be worth as much if they were easy," she replied. Harry looked up at her, perhaps surprised that she had answered him. She tried to smile in an effort to comfort him, but it would only form half-way. He watched as she wiped tears from one eye with her sleeve and slipped out the door.

- - - - - - -

Ginny walked back in a daze to where she'd left Theo standing in the hallway near Dumbledore's office. As she had guessed, he was no longer there. She honestly didn't know what to think. To further complicate matters, her confused ponderings were interrupted by Ron and Hermione noisily exiting the headmaster's office. Trying not to panic and very much wanting to avoid an encounter with the two of them, Ginny sped quietly down the hall and darted behind a suit of armor.

Sometimes it was a blessing that Ron and Hermione were always carrying on at ungodly volumes.

". . . how do you reckon he found out? Did you . . ."

". . . _I_ didn't say anything. And how on Earth would _Ginny_ have found out . . ."

". . . he's probably just _furious_ with us . . ."

_Fat chance_, Ginny thought to herself as they passed by her. _Not when he's doing such a splendid job of being furious at me_. Her angsty inner monologue was cut off by the sound of a familiar voice which, given the fact that her present emotional state was in complete uproar, was a very welcome one indeed.

"Gin?" Kerney asked, causing Ginny to turn and smile in relief. Once the initial relief passed, the relieved smile crumbled and Ginny held back tears just long enough for the Kernel to wrap her up in a hug. After a few minutes, Ginny calmed down, caught her breath and looked up at her friend.

"Thanks," she said meekly. She moved to start walking down the hall in the direction of the Kitchens, wiping her eyes with her sleeves. The Kernel fell into step with her.

"What happened," Kerney stated more than asked. Ginny appreciated the fact that it didn't sound like she was prying.

"Well, I had a lovely day with Theo, and then . . . well, then we were coming back to school and Theo, Harry, Neville, Luna, and I were attacked by Dementors," Ginny began, then added miserably, "So of course they all saw my Patronus." As if that was the worst of her troubles.

"And then I blew up one of the castle doors, and then we went to Dumbledore's office to explain, and when we were done I was stuck alone in the hall with Theo and Harry, and Theo kissed me right in front of him, and it was brilliant, but Harry got mad and we fought again, and now I'm confused and I feel absolutely wretched. And hungry." Having arrived at the portrait of the fruit, she tickled the pear.

Kerney followed her into the warm familiarity of the Kitchens with slightly raised eyebrows and a shake of the head that expressed her utter lack of surprise.

Once Ginny had taken care of her hunger, they moved on to the confusion and wretchedness. The Kernel was brought up to speed on the day's events, laughing heartily at the notion of Ron and Hermione thinking they were at all discreet. By the time Ginny had finished her explanation, Kerney had been surprised more than once by what she heard, something that happened rather rarely in Ginny's experience. At last Ginny looked to her friend for counsel, or a reaction, at the very least.

"So, what d'you reckon?" The Kernel nodded in assent.

"I reckon that Harry is bloody scared of you." Ginny's face fell. "Not like that. I think he's scared of you the same way you're scared of him," Ginny's expression was more tentative now, "the way your brother scares the living hell out of Hermione Granger. It's the same way that Andy and Nadine are absolutely petrified of each other. It's the power they hold over each other. The power that Harry has over you, and, now that we come to it, the power he must believe you have over him."

"What do you mean, power?"

"Ginny, why the bloody hell did you try for so long to get over him? Because you knew that if he was ever in trouble, or if he ever asked you for anything, you'd do it. You'd be at his side in an instant. Didn't matter if he dangled Cho bloody Chang in front of you for the length of a school year. His godfather's been kidnapped by Death Eaters in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries? You're there, no questions asked. And from what Luna says, your loyalty was firmer there than his supposed two best friends. While they questioned him, you didn't blink. That's the power I'm talking about.

"It's the absolute trust, that vulnerability that you resign yourself to when you care that much about someone. Take control-freak Hermione. I think half the reason she wants her and Ron to be a secret is because she's paranoid that others will see her vulnerability. Her brain has probably told her a million times that Ron is not her kind of bloke, but she just can't help it. No one can. For Andy and Nadine it was fear that one would reject the other because they've known each other so long, and so well. I reckon it's not that easy to feel attractive to someone who's seen you at your worst or most private moments.

"And then there's Harry. Here's a boy who has had so little control over his life since the day he stumped Voldemort that he probably resents the hell out of every authority figure he comes across. He's got a bloody mad dark wizard out to kill him, and that leaves him with about two areas in his life he has any control over. One is Quidditch, which I reckon to be the only thing that has kept him sane over the last five years. The other is his affection, which, given his life situation, is probably not something he has any natural talent for like he does with the Snitch.

"If he gives in to how he appears to feel about you, that's the ball game, and he knows it. Because if you knew how he felt, he wouldn't be able to deny you anything. A bloke like Harry plays for keeps. He's a lot like your brother Ron that way. Sure, Ron is louder and much more aggressive about it, but don't think that Harry Potter doesn't work in the same extremes. He won't dive in like Ron apparently has, because he's so bloody noble and he doesn't think he'd be able to pick the survival of the Wizarding world over you if Voldemort ever made him choose. That's the power you have. That's the fear."

"But that's so _stupid!_" Ginny cried, her body confused between a half-choked sob, incredulity, and anger.

"Love makes people stupid," Kerney replied. Ginny found little comfort in this, but she doubted the Kernel had meant to be comforting. "But you and Theo didn't cooperate with his little plan. He could make excuses when you dated Corner, because he was a git. But Harry respects Theo. He can't find anything wrong with him, and now the bloke went and kissed you, and hell if you didn't appear to like it. And in case he missed it, you ran after him and made sure he realized that he's got a decision to make. Whether you meant to or not, I do believe you just threw down the gauntlet to Harry Potter, mate."

"Oh, sod it all," was all Ginny could muster in response.

"No kidding," Kerney answered honestly.

"So what do I do now?" Ginny wondered aloud. "I think Harry might be okay if we could act like nothing happened, but then, what about Theo? I do like him, but if there's a chance Harry would ever look at me that way, I don't want to lead Theo on. How do I manage this without being a complete wench to one of them?"

"You've got to be honest with yourself, and decide what you want. Then, be honest with Theo. I think you've already made it clear enough for Harry that he's got to make the first move and, given the history between you two, I reckon that's pretty fair."

- - - - - - -

The next week passed by Ginny in a way that made her feel alternately like she was moving at hyper-speed and as though she were underwater. In most spare moments—at meals, when she spaced out in class, in the shower, during Quidditch drills—she thought on the question Kerney had told her to ask herself: _What do I want?_

It wasn't so much that she found answering the question difficult; it was how she felt about her answer that she needed to sort out. She wanted Harry, and there was really nothing else to think or say about it. But the reality of the situation was that Harry hadn't made a move, and her own pride and self-consciousness would not permit her to make it herself.

Theo, on the other hand, _had_ asked her out, and it had been wonderful. He had kissed her, and it had been wonderful. It had been so wonderful, in fact, that she rather fancied the idea of him doing it again. And yet she couldn't deny that if Harry ever seemed romantically inclined toward her, she wouldn't be able to restrain the desire to be with him.

The last exchange she had shared with Harry on that strange day kept coming back to her in her mind.

"_Why does everything have to be so hard?"_

"_I suppose some things just wouldn't be worth as much if they were easy."_

She hated being right.

- - - - - - -

Tragedy in Theo's family provided a respite for Ginny's inner reflection, though she would have faced the uncertainty and awkwardness of encountering her Potions partner in a second if it meant that his grandfather would still be alive.

Devon had told her about Mr. Caldwell's death on Sunday, the day after Hogsmeade, when the two of them had dinner together in the Kitchens. Theo hadn't mentioned to Devon how his grandfather had died.

But even more surprising than the cause of Theo's sudden absence was the fact that all five of the Ryan and McGrath children had been taken out of school as well. Ginny was unsure of whether they were absent for the same reason, seeing as she had no idea why the Ryans or the McGraths would have anything to do with Theo's grandparents. Again, Devon provided a much-needed explanation.

"I'm surprised that you don't know," her Slytherin friend began, honestly. "Theo's uncle Chad and Andy's uncle Will have been best friends since before they started at Hogwarts. The McGraths and the Caldwells have always been close allies and friends. Theo's mother, Andy's parents, and Andy's aunt Tracy were all friends at Hogwarts as well. The attachments between those two families run deep, and as the other family who is so closely connected with the McGraths, the Ryans would have been invited as well. Mr. Caldwell was the patriarch of his family, leaving Chad Caldwell to take over in his place. Of course his closest friends would be there to support him."

"I had no idea," Ginny responded with surprise. She really had to stop underestimating the depth of the connections that ran through the old families of the wizarding world. Her knowledge of Gertrude Wrightman should have taught her that. "When do you think they will be back?" Devon's face took on an expression that Ginny had never seen on her before: a slight hint of sadness.

"I would be surprised if Theo returned before your match against Hufflepuff next week," Devon replied. That was nearly two weeks off. "I imagine that Stephen and the Ryan sisters will be back by the end of this week. Andy will probably be gone as long as Theo is. As the oldest son in his family, and Theo's friend, Andy will have nearly as many things to attend to as Theo."

"Andy and Theo are friends? Since when!" Ginny wanted to know. How could she have missed this? Andy was one of her best friends, and she had really thought she was getting to know Theo. Apparently she had been mistaken.

"Since before they came to Hogwarts," Devon replied evenly. Seeing that Ginny was about to ask why they had never told her about their friendship, Devon continued. "Just as there are perfectly good reasons why you and I don't publicize our friendship, there are equally prudent reasons why they don't either. I do know that in Stephen's first year here, they had a hell of a time getting him to remember not to wave and say hello to Theo in the corridors." Ginny's face fell into a look of considerable chagrin at hearing this. She did not like the idea of children having to censor themselves like that.

"But if everyone knows how close their families are, why would it be a problem?" Ginny asked.

"Because of who Theo's other family connections are," Devon explained. Ginny recalled what Theo had told her of his family.

"His mother and his father," she confirmed out loud. Devon nodded in confirmation.

"Will McGrath and Chad Caldwell, along with Andy's parents and Theo's grandparents, held very strong views during the first war. They were never particularly outspoken about it, but everyone knew they opposed the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters. Will McGrath, Chad Caldwell, and Andy's parents were even rumored to have connections with the Order of the Phoenix." This was certainly news to Ginny.

"But Theo's mum married a suspected Death Eater," Ginny inserted. She had a feeling that there were some subjects that Devon might not elaborate on if Ginny didn't hint that Theo had already told her about them. _Slytherins_.

"Yes, she did, and practically tore her family apart in the process. Apparently, when Theo started to approach school age, Will and Chad took it upon themselves to bring him back to what they saw as his proper family. If Samantha Caldwell had kept her name and not married into a dark family, Theo eventually would have been the Caldwell heir, not Chad." Ginny nodded in assent. That much she had figured out for herself, though Theo had never said it explicitly.

"I still can't believe they've been friends all these years and I never had a clue." Devon sighed, and Ginny wondered if her Slytherin friend was growing slightly impatient with her thick, Gryffindor brain.

"It was very hard for them at first. With rumors that Voldemort was returning, and Draco strutting around the Slytherin Dungeons like he bloody owned the place, Theo didn't exactly have an easy first two years. His father was indifferent toward him and his mother had grown cold since her estrangement from her family. He was not the confident young man that we recognize as our friend. His grandparents and his uncles did that. He feels the loss of his grandfather terribly."

"Is there anything we can do? Anything _I_ can do?" Ginny asked. She couldn't help but feel guilty for running off after he kissed her. If she had stayed, she might have been with him when he heard the news. She might have been able to comfort him.

"Other than writing him, I'm not sure there is anything to be done at the moment," Devon answered, looking strangely sympathetic. "My family is sending flowers for the funeral, and I was going to write him tonight. We can send our letters together, if you like." Ginny nodded.

"I'll have mine ready. Why don't we meet at the Owlry during lunch? Everyone will be eating in the Great Hall and no one will miss us."

"I do have an owl, you know," Devon reminded her. Always having to ask to use Pig, Hedwig, or a school owl every time she sent a letter, Ginny tended to forget that many other students had their own.

"I'll owl you my note tonight and you can send them off then, is that alright?" Devon replied that it would be perfectly suitable.

- - - - - - -

A note to Theo wasn't the only owl Ginny sent that night. Having learned that the funeral would be held on Wednesday, Ginny had sent her mother a request that she send flowers on behalf of their family. She hoped the gesture would signify more than her own sympathy and support. Regardless of what they may have been in the last war, the Weasleys were more than fully invested in the present one. A show of support from another old, albeit much more humble, wizard family might remind the Caldwells and the McGraths that they were not alone this time around.

On Wednesday Ginny noticed that the Ramsey twins were not at school, and figured that, given what she had heard about Gretchen's relationship with Theo's grandmother when they had returned to school, she reckoned that they had gone to the funeral.

In the time between the funeral and the return of Andy and Theo to Hogwarts, only two things occurred of note. First, Ginny had her career planning meeting with Professor McGonagall that was required of all fifth-year students. And then, as Devon had indicated, Gryffindor played Hufflepuff in Quidditch to decide who would advance to the cup final.

The first thing Ginny noticed walking into her career advice meeting was McGonagall's particularly calculating look. It reminded her of the way McGonagall had looked when Ginny and she had first discussed Ginny's desire to take her O.W.L.'s early.

The second thing she noticed was the collection of pamphlets on the table with glossy pictures depicting all of the jobs she had considered and decided not to pursue: Healer (which her mother would prefer second only to Ginny popping out multiple grandchildren as quickly as possible, preferably with Harry), Potions curator, Gringotts employee (that particular picture was fairly unattractive, but seemed more life-like than the rest), Experimental Floo Coordinator, Charmer, _Daily Prophet_ employee.

There were more, but Ginny didn't feel much like looking at them. Her family often called her stubborn, and true to that depiction, she had come into this meeting knowing only two positions in the working force that would satisfy her—notwithstanding professional Chaser, which she doubted the deputy headmistress would accept.

"Miss Weasley," Professor McGonagall greeted her, motioning to the seat across from her as she looked down at what might have been Ginny's course work and evaluation forms. Ginny resisted the urge to snatch them out of the professor's hand and  
read over them. Snape's comments would have been especially interesting.

"Hello, Professor," Ginny replied, taking her seat.

"We have discussed previously how your early exams would strangely effect your future choices. Have you thought any more about that?"

Odd question. But Ginny had known it would be brought up. "Yes. I know that I'll be forced to make certain changes to my curriculum in my seventh year, but I was hoping to continue with Transfiguration, Potions, and Defense in some capacity in seventh year while working intensively in other subjects that my future profession will demand."

"You are aware that Hogwarts used to have a practice of seventh year projects?" McGonagall asked.

"Yes," Ginny said. "It stopped the year before Bill became a fifth-year. He was terribly put out. Wanted to study curse breaking."

"Many students chose to focus on the subject which later became their profession," McGonagall said, still looking calculatingly at Ginny. "If we were to allow you to propose and work on an individual project, do you know what you would do?"

Ginny stared. She had thought she might be allowed to sit in on seventh year lectures, help the professors, study with someone. She hadn't thought McGonagall would give her  
such freedom. Rumor had it the projects stopped when one ambitious student studying Herbology—the effects of some plant or other on the lives of Mandrakes—had been hurt.

"I suppose I'd like to contact the Department of Mysteries and see if I might be able to work on something that could also serve as an admittance test," Ginny said.

McGonagall's lips narrowed. _Never a good sign_. Ginny prepared for a fight. Instead, all she received was a sharp look and a question: "The Department of Mysteries?"

"I know they don't normally work with people my age—well, I suppose I don't know that so much as I assume it. No one really knows that much about them, but it's one of the few jobs I'm actually interested in."

"Why?" Such a simple question asked with so much vehemence. Ginny paused to make out exactly what she wanted to say.

"It's hard, after seeing those rooms and what happened to people there, not to want to know more," Ginny said. "At least, it is for me. I mean, they were so strange! And that curtain." The familiar flash of memory of Sirius came to Ginny. "What _was_ that? Why  
was it there without any warning and how did Remus and everyone seem to know that he was gone forever? And those brains, how did they hurt my brother? Why did they? There was a wall of what looked like water that managed to change a Death Eater's head into a baby's and back again. There are things in there . . . things that could really help in the fight against Voldemort. Maybe there is a way to destroy Dementors instead of just holding them off with . . . if someone just took the time to study in one of those rooms . . . And—"

Ginny stopped; she'd been babbling. She hadn't done that since second year. Third year at the latest. How embarrassing.

"Didn't mean to carry on like that," Ginny said to recover herself, but McGonagall looked far from taken aback by her enthusiasm. She didn't even look upset. Her intelligent eyes looked oddly satisfied with Ginny's sentiment.

"Are you determined to be an Unspeakable?"

Determined? _Was_ she determined? When Andy and even Kerney asked her what she wanted to do, she always told them that she was open to possibilities. But that wasn't exactly true, and if Ginny had to be honest with anyone about her goals, she supposed it should be her career counselor of sorts, McGonagall.

"Yes," Ginny said. "The only other job I'd really consider is being a professor. Of Potions, preferably." McGonagall picked up the pamphlets and straightened them before sitting back—no, not relaxing—her back never touched the back cushion.

"There is an opportunity during the summer holiday that might interest you."

"What sort of opportunity?" Ginny asked, curiosity more than a little piqued.

"The sort that is only being offered to you, and only if you demonstrated a prior interest during your conversation with me," McGonagall answered in a very un-McGonagall, un-straightforward way. "It is an apprenticeship with the Department of Mysteries." Ginny shook her head in disbelief. It was too convenient for her to be offered this after only just mentioning her interest in the subject. She'd never brought it up with anyone before.

"Why?"

"The reasons given," McGonagall said, summoning a piece of parchment from her desk across the room and then handing it to Ginny, "were skill, intellect, and display of potential."

Once again, Ginny instinctively rejected such a generous offer. She had not appealed to the Department of Mysteries. How had they heard of her? She couldn't have been the first student to take the O.W.L.'s early, could she? She wasn't even the best student in the school. Were seventh years also offered this chance? From McGonagall's description, no, they weren't. Ginny looked down at the parchment for answers.

_To Professor McGonagall, _

_Deputy Headmistress, Hogwarts School,  
Academic Advisor to Ginevra Weasley, _

The Department of Mysteries extends an invitation to Miss Ginevra

_Weasley to study in the Department of Mysteries for the months of _

_June through August of 1996, with an access level of Apprentice. _

_Miss Weasley's unique potential, intelligence, and background have _

_given rise to this invitation. We expect an immediate response. _

Unspeakable,  
Specialist in the Third Room,  
Gertrude Wrightman

Ginny coughed. "Professor _Wrightman?_"

"Yes," McGonagall answered curtly. "It has been her occupation for nearly twenty years until she came to teach here." Ginny shook her head as things rapidly became clear to her. The apprenticeship had come at Professor Wrightman's behest. She was offered it because she showed an interest. Still, there were a couple of very odd things.

"It certainly is a short letter," Ginny said, reading it again.

"It's mysterious," McGonagall said with evident derision. Ginny smiled at the professor's disgust as she kept reading.

One word caught her eye. "What do they mean about my background?"

"They did not send a separate letter to me," McGonagall said by way of an answer. _Interesting_. Everything that the professor knew, Ginny knew. It felt oddly dissatisfying. If information was kept from her until she was older than McGonagall, Ginny might just decide to give up on all these people.

"Professor, I'm taking all of the classes that I need. I plan to take O.W.L.'s in the rest of my classes and continue them in whatever capacity I can, which I think ought to help me with whichever career I choose," Ginny said. "So do you mind if we cut this short a bit? I'd like to talk to Professor Wrightman about this."

Professor McGonagall nodded, standing. "I must say, Miss Weasley, that I had rather hoped you would have an easier conference than your brothers."

"What were theirs like?" Ginny asked, brightening somewhat, standing, and indicating the parchment. "Did they also receive summons to mysterious departments?"

"Every one of them had already decided what they wanted before they walked through my door," McGonagall recalled, and not without something akin to fondness. "Bill wanted to work in curses and could not be convinced to find a career more fitting for a Head Boy. Charlie wanted to live in the wild for a while, to see how it was to live with only his wand." Ginny remembered his gap year and smiled at the memory of her mother's all too predictable reaction to the idea.

"Percy came in with four feet of parchment that was a step-by-step plan to rise within the Ministry. The twins came in together, despite their separate appointments, insisted on making me tea, and calmly explained that they planned to undermine the government through radical political speeches and widespread dungbombing if necessary. They also explained a goal to mobilize the people of the United Kingdom in order to create the world's largest human pyramid." Ginny smiled in appreciation of her twin brothers. She had always thought that McGonagall had liked them best, despite herself.

"That sounds like them." Sometimes Ginny almost painfully missed her family. It was all well and fine to be near Ron, but there was nothing like being home with all of her brothers at once. Even Percy. "What did Ron say?"

McGonagall looked at Ginny for a long moment. "I cannot discuss students who haven't left school."

A thought occurred to Ginny as she looked down at the parchment that might be the key to her future. She remembered the battle they had fought through in the Department of Mysteries, and she remembered Ron right beforehand, as they were about to leave Hogwarts, following Harry without hesitation or question.

"But Ron does, you know, have a plan, doesn't he?" Ginny asked. "You don't have to tell me specifically, but he thinks about the future, right? I mean, I can't imagine him doing it, but it must be something he considers."

McGonagall nodded as she gestured at the door and it swung open. "He considers it."

Ginny couldn't help but wonder if the beginning and end of Ron's consideration were that he would follow Harry to his final confrontation with Voldemort. Ginny wondered if, despite her interest in a future, if she shouldn't begin to consider the idea that people she loved—certainly she herself—might die in the fight they all knew was coming.

- - - - - - -

Talking to Professor Wrightman was, as always, both frustrating and enlightening. Ginny had knocked on the professor's door and been surprised when the Defense professor opened the door almost immediately.

"Miss Weasley." Wrightman stepped back to let Ginny enter, which she did.

"I just left my meeting with Professor McGonagall," Ginny said, turning to see the professor shut her door and walk past Ginny to her desk without showing any reaction to Ginny's statement. Ginny decided that, as with most Slytherins, the direct approach would be best. She placed the parchment on the desk and backed up as she said, in a rather mild tone, "Explain this to me."

Professor Wrightman looked at the parchment and then up at the sixth year. "It's an invitation from the Department of Mysteries."

"Yes, I gathered that much. I was hoping you could tell me why I received it," Ginny said as she leaned against the armrest of the chair.

"I believe the exact reasons given were your unique potential, intelligence, and background."

"Yes, right. That's really vague and confusing."

"Do you not want the position?"

"I don't know yet," Ginny said, starting to stall. "Why didn't you ever mention that you were an Unspeakable?" _Not that I didn't already know_.

Gertrude Wrightman folded her hands in front of her and Ginny couldn't help but notice how perfect her nails looked. "I am currently your Defense professor."

"But for the last twenty-some years you've worked in the Department of Mysteries. Don't you think that's something your students would be interested to know?"

"I was under the presumption that my students wanted to know how to defend themselves against the Dark Arts," Wrightman said, smiling a half smile as if she found Ginny amusing.

"Who else received this invitation?" Ginny asked.

"No one." Okay. McGonagall had been right. That didn't make things much clearer, though.

"What do you want from me?"

"Want?"

"My dad says that there's no such thing as a free lunch, and this is the lunch of a lifetime, so to speak. No matter how well and how early I took my O.W.L.'s, they didn't warrant this offer," Ginny said, leaving the armrest so that she stood upright on her own as she looked at her little blonde Defense professor. "So I want to know what it'll cost me."

Gertrude Wrightman looked at Ginny with her unwavering light blue eyes and said, "Tom Riddle." Ginny's face closed off, but Gertrude continued without pause. "You  
will work with me on my project and in return you'll let my colleagues and I study Tom Riddle through you."

Ginny thought of the dreams at the beginning of the year—the Unforgivable Curses she had cast and had enjoyed casting, the pain that consumed her afterward—but she said, "I'm not connected to him anymore. Any memory I have of him is four years old."

"You lie well," Gertrude said with something like appreciation. Ginny refused to let a response on her face.

"How would you know if I'm lying? I'm not," Ginny responded.

"Or maybe they did not see what they did not want to see, because whether or not you choose to accept it, you certainly have unconscious connections to Tom Riddle." Professor Wrightman leaned back, though she, like McGonagall, did not actually touch her backrest. Somehow Ginny was not surprised that it was more intimidating coming from the woman in front of her.

"You are a fifteen year old girl with proficiency in areas of study in which none of your family has shown potential. You understand concepts in advanced classes so quickly that it seems professors are only refreshing your memory instead of presenting new ideas. Most telling, your worst classes are subjects that either weren't offered fifty years ago or weren't taken by one Tom Riddle. The ability you have with wandless magic—though you do an admirable job of hiding it—is one only manifested in people whose personal magical mental wards have been thoroughly or continuously breached."

"I'm a seventh child and the first girl in seven generations. I work hard in classes that seem most worthwhile and that takes away from study time for other classes. I have certain abilities, but so what? Other people have had them! It doesn't have to mean that the bloody Dark Lord's human incarnation lives in my head still!" Ginny didn't like the feeling that she had to defend herself to her teacher. It never felt like this when she talked about it with Harry.

"Perhaps it doesn't. Or perhaps you, who were susceptible to retaining such abilities because of your unique birth, were affected by the hostile invasion of another consciousness on your innocent, eleven-year-old mind." Professor Wrightman's gaze never wavered. "Perhaps you ought to consider the possibility that when one of the most talented wizards to ever walk this county controlled your mind and body, he changed you. When his diary was destroyed you were his only conduit to the world. Does it seem possible that he left behind pieces of his soul, his power in you, and most importantly a possible connection to his living body?"

Ginny hated this. She hated hearing Gertrude Wrightman voice all of her inner concerns about herself, all of the thoughts she had pushed out of her head since the nightmares had subsided. Back then, when she had been lying in bed in the middle of the night, she had acknowledged that Voldemort would probably be able to control her more easily because of her experience in first year. And she had long recognized the fact that her ability with school probably related to the Chamber of Secrets and the diary, but the way Professor Wrightman talked about it made Ginny want to deny every part of everything she said.

"He's not still in me," Ginny insisted. "You don't know me. We've had all of three conversations and all were about you and your past. I may have accidentally fallen into your Pensieve, but I promise you've never been privy to my most important memories. You've never been anyone in my life except a professor that thought too highly of herself because she is part of an archaic nobility that still bears less respect than the oldest names, the Founders' names."

"Listen to yourself," Gertrude Wrightman replied fiercely. "When you become truly angry, you grow cold, withdrawn. You exude power and a clear apathy toward those with whom you are angry, like you could hurt them without flinching. And twice I have seen your eyes burn red during such exchanges."

Ginny felt as if she had been slapped. Instantly, her anger grew cold and just as she was about to respond, she realized she had done exactly what Professor Wrightman said she would do—exactly what Tom had done, and she hated this conversation all the more.

"You want to study me."

"I want you to work with some very talented witches and wizards to learn more about Tom Riddle and how his existence effects you."

"I won't spend three months being poked and prodded like a Potions experiment."

"We would do no such thing," her professor said, sounding disgusted with the idea. "You provide a link to a man that threatens the world, a link no one else has. You would learn as much as we would, share in all of our findings."

Professor Wrightman had correctly divined that Ginny's ultimate weakness—other than Harry—was her desire for information, but she said, "Harry has the same connection." The Defense professor shook her head.

"His is different."

"Then I imagine he would be a better test subject than me."

"Harry could and has provided valuable information about the Dark Lord, but now we want to know about Tom Riddle." Gertrude gazed seriously at Ginny. "Besides, Harry has other things he must do this holiday, like staying with his aunt to replenish the magical protection she provides him."

They had already argued over the term "protection" in relation to Harry's aunt, so instead of picking a fight about that, Ginny asked for clarification of something else that was bothering her.

"If Tom had not possessed me, would you still have offered me this position?"

"No," Professor Wrightman said resolutely. Ginny had to admire the way her teacher never seemed to lie. "However, had you shown less power, character, intellect, or potential, even if you had been through the same experience, you would not have been given this opportunity."

Well, at least there was that.

"What happens if I don't have the information you need about Tom Riddle?" Ginny inquired, with a strange kind of insecurity gnawing at the back of her mind.

"Do you know what Tom Riddle did in his third year to gain the attention of the Headmaster?" Professor Wrightman asked. Ginny shook her head briefly. "He sent a spell at the very door that you blew up when you ran from the Dementors."

Ginny shook her head. "It was a spur of the moment decision. The only way to alert the faculty to the danger."

"The only way? Or the way you instinctively thought to do it because in a hidden part of you that you hate and suppress and can't even feel, lie the memories of a sixteen-year old boy. Memories that could help defeat the man whose name so many fear to speak."

"He doesn't control me."

"But could he?" Professor Wrightman asked. Then more softly, "Wouldn't you like to know?" Again, Ginny thought of her dreams. Her teacher was apparently thinking related thoughts. "You could be a threat to Harry."

Ginny looked sharply at her professor and when she saw that she was sincere, Ginny sat into the chair.

"You're playing to my weakness."

"I'm playing to your strength." The Defense professor nodded at her. "We do not judge at the Department of Mysteries. Ever. When scouting for potential recruits, the first indicator is an open mind. We will give our findings to no one, only the results of the research in the forms of spells and potions that we have deemed appropriate tools." There was a long pause before Ginny felt confident enough to respond.

"Can I think about it?"

"Not for long," her professor cautioned. "We would be proud to work with you, but if we must, we will begin other projects instead." Ginny wanted to hit something.

"You can't just dump this on me in this ridiculous letter, tell me I might embody some incarnation of Voldemort, and then expect an answer immediately. I'll have to talk to my parents, who will never in million years let me do this, by the way, and figure out transportation to the Ministry, and—"

"You would live with me during the holiday," Professor Wrightman cut in. Ginny's jaw dropped.

"_What?_"

"Only Unspeakables have direct connections to the Department of Mysteries."

"That didn't really stop six students from waltzing on in last June. Or a fleet of Death Eaters. How protected can it be?"

"The Death Eaters captured, tortured, killed, and used necromancy to have one of our Seers open her personal alcove by having her deposit her own blood in a security ward that, through a flaw we had not been aware of, was not prepared to handle all of her blood being poured into it. The system override came on and allowed access to the main floors. There was also quite a bit of dark magic and the help of the security system that the Ministry had secretly installed when they rebuilt the department in 1982. You had an easy time because the Death Eaters wanted you all to come."

Ah. Well, then.

"So if I do this, I am going to stay at your house?"

"Two full weeks prior to entering the department, all personnel must reside with an Unspeakable." Professor Wrightman confirmed. "Apprentices must reside with their designated Unspeakable for the duration of their apprenticeship. We recommend that you have no contact with family except letters, and even those ought to be limited. Your acquaintances will be the people I invite into my home and, if you choose to do journey there, those in the nearby village."

"Nothing but letters!" Ginny exclaimed."Not even Hogwarts as rules like that!"

"Consider it an opportunity to be away from your family for the first time. To know who you are without being defined by them." Not for the first time, Ginny thought Gertrude Wrightman was hardly one to talk about the virtue of not being defined by one's family.

"I'd still see my father at work."

"Rarely, if ever."

"You're being deliberately mean."

"You're being childish."

- - - - - - -

On the heels of such a meeting, Ginny didn't really spare a thought for the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff. As it turned out, she needn't have done so anyway.

Due to the fine match-up she made with her good friend—and Hufflepuff Beater—Jamie Bowen, and the quality of the Gryffindor Chasers and Hufflepuff Beaters in general, the game was built up nearly as much as the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry. Unfortunately, the match itself proved to be the most anti-climactic one Ginny had ever seen or been a part of.

The projected quality of the match-up had depended on one simple thing, one thing that had never seemed to be lacking in the progression of a Quidditch match: time. The last two games Gryffindor had played in had run uncommonly long, each lasting more than three hours. Against Hufflepuff, on the other hand, Harry went diving for the Snitch in the twelfth minute and it was over. So absorbed was the crowd with watching the superb gamesmanship that was developing between the Chasers and Beaters, that half the stadium didn't notice went Harry's Firebolt went shooting into the sky in celebration, Golden Snitch glittering in his right hand.

As Devon had predicted, Stephen preceded his brother in returning to school by nearly a week, and was thus able to play in the match. The win provided somewhat of an uplifting effect on him, since he would be able to write his family and invite them to come and watch the final.

The win also had a relatively calming effect on Harry, who stopped avoiding her, as he had been doing so religiously ever since their row two Saturdays before. This sequence of events had Ginny agreeing resolutely with Kerney's estimation that Quidditch had single-handedly kept Harry from losing his mind over the last several years. And not for the first time in her life, she thanked Merlin for Quidditch.

Such was the state of affairs in Ginny's life as she trekked down to her Defense Professor's office, still dressed in the sleek Gryffindor Quidditch uniform she had designed for the team. When it came down to it, she knew she had to do whatever she could to help Harry, and together with the added bonus of not spending the summer holiday in the jurisdiction of her parents and the opportunity to find out more about the rooms in the Department of Mysteries, how could she possibly say no?

Perhaps she wouldn't see Harry for three months, but if it meant she would get to see him live past Hogwarts, then she would do it. She would accept Gertrude Wrightman's offer for the summer.


	14. For What It's Worth

**Author's Notes: **Many thanks to ProfessorSpork, MsMissProngs, Ginny22, edwinm, EagleBlaze, incompetent, Reciprokates, Elyra 'Darkwynde' Haliwel, StarzLight, GMR, buggs, Fudge, Stylin'Fire, and Andrew for the wonderful comments. I (we) really appreciate them! Hope you all enjoy the chapter.

**SPOILERS:** This chapter is chocked-full of spoilers and characters from **_Prelude to Destiny_**. If you haven't read that story yet, parts of this may not make sense, or they may not seem as significant as they really are.

**CHAPTER 13**

**For What It's Worth**

Anyone in the stands who was new to Hogwarts Quidditch would notice one thing right away. Gryffindor had two players who could fly like they were born on brooms.

A redheaded girl and a black-haired boy, one a Chaser, the other a Seeker, zoomed around the pitch seamlessly. It appeared as though their brooms adjusted instantly to every motion, every turn of their hips, every swivel of their shoulders. Rarely had any of the Houses had a flyer like them, let alone two at the same time.

The girl was remarkable, her smaller stature and lower center of gravity giving her a shockingly tight turning radius, which she used to duck and skirt Bludgers, Beaters, and opposing Chasers at point-blank range. People who knew her family might say that she took to her broom like her brother Charlie, with the same ease and equal aggression, but with much more calculation in her eyes.

But the boy, now he was _really_ something. A strict-looking woman in Gryffindor colors, a professor, turned to the blonde couple sitting next to her and said, "I reckon he's better than James. Can you believe it?"

To which the petite blonde woman quietly replied, "True." Her older brother said nothing, eyes glued to the players zooming to and fro between the rings. He looked stricken, like he was in pain.

On the other side of the brother-sister pair, another blonde man—this one several years younger than the first—sat with his wife and child, discussing the match and the players with his friend, who had somewhat darker hair.

"Hope he falls," the young blonde man said, pointing to the Ravenclaw captain and earning an eye-roll from his wife.

"Will, that's a student!" his darker-haired friend chided. Will smirked.

"And?" Will returned. The friend shook his head.

"You always were an intense fan," the friend replied.

"Intense nothing. GO STEVIE!"

"He doesn't have the ball," Will's wife chimed in helpfully, as the Ravenclaw Seeker moved as close as she could to the Gryffindor Seeker.

"Hit her in the face!" Will called out as one of the Bludgers zoomed toward a Gryffindor Beater.

"Again: intense," the friend observed with a slight smile.

"Chad, you say intense, I say familial obligation," Will explained, with a straight face that threatened to break into a smirk until something in the match caught his attention. He pointed at one of the Gryffindor Chasers. "Hey, who's that redhead? The little chit can _move_." Chad directed his attention toward the redheaded girl who was currently weaving her way toward the Ravenclaw rings.

"That's Ginny Weasley," the response came, from Will's wife as she bounced her young son on her lap. At the surprised look she received from the two young men, she explained: "McGonagall told me." Will's mouth widened into a grin.

"The love of Stevie's life?" he asked hopefully, and not a little cheekily. His wife socked him in the arm.

"Don't tease him," she scolded. Will grinned and turned back to Chad.

"Tease him? I'm proud of his choice!" Will exclaimed.

"But it _is_ her, right?" Chad asked.

"Yes," Will's wife confirmed over her husband's head. "That's her." She turned back to the toddler on her lap.

"Aren't there like a hundred Weasley kids?" Chad asked. "Or is she the next generation?"

"Merlin, that makes me feel old," Will replied. "Wasn't there a Weasley when we were at school?"

"Yes, but he was in Gryffindor," Chad said.

"Cool little kid, though," Will recalled. "He was always getting detention for trying out difficult spells in the corridors."

"And wasn't there a little Seeker too? Seventh year, or maybe after we left?" Chad wondered. Will paused to think back to the Quidditch games of their final year at Hogwarts, as Chad went on. "Remember our seventh year, when Gryffindor was terrible, but they had this little Seeker who always got the Snitch, even though they would still lose by like a hundred points?"

"Oh man, they were _horrible_." Will agreed.

"But not the Weasley kid," Chad

"Nor, apparently, is his sister" Will added, as said sister scored a goal.

"You really think they're all from the same family?" Chad asked.

"If so, that woman was really pumping 'em out," Will concluded. "That's it Stevie! CRACK THE BAT!"

"Yeah, I think she's his sister," Chad declared, scanning the pitch and then pointing toward the Gryffindor rings. "Look, their Keeper must be another brother."

"Merlin, those Weasleys don't play around when it comes to procreation, do they?" Will observed.

"I wonder how she compares to Lily," Chad said quietly after a few thoughtful moments of silence.

"No one compares to Lily," Will insisted. Then he smiled. "But _Stevie_ thinks she's really something." Chad gave his friend a look.

"Will . . ."

"Fine. Whatever. No teasing my nephew," Will promised. Then, after watching the girl for a few moments: "Why couldn't she have been more studious and put in our house?"

"I think it's a rule, redheads belong in Gryffindor," Chad explained. Both boys thought back to the other redheaded Gryffindor they knew.

"I can respect that."

Their conversation was cut off as the black-haired Gryffindor Seeker suddenly took off into an almost vertical dive over near the Ravenclaw end of the pitch, and in the urgency of the situation, the other Seeker had no choice but to follow him. As they grew closer and closer to the ground, the crowd stood up in anticipation, leaning over banisters and around each other to get a better view. The Ravenclaw Seeker was smaller than the boy, but was able to keep up just behind him. The spectators in the stands grew more and more anxious as the two players went hurtling toward the ground, and some even started to scream and yell in anticipation of the collision.

But just at the last second, the Gryffindor Seeker twisted around ever so slightly, like a heat-seeking missile whose target had changed, and he took off back up into the sky like a shot.

The Ravenclaw Seeker was not so lucky. She must have noticed that the Snitch was nowhere in sight, and tried to pull up at the last second, but was not quick enough to avoid catching a bit of the ground as she redirected her broom. When the tail of her broom nicked the ground, she was thrown off, but not seriously injured. It could have been a lot worse.

"Wronski Feint," the professor mentioned to her blonde neighbors, in a breathless, almost disbelieving sort of way that suggested amazement, despite the fact that she had seen the boy's moves many times before. The blonde woman nodded but kept rapt attention on the game, her eyes briefly resting on the girl being attended to on the ground, before returning to the Gryffindor who was already 200 feet in the air and climbing. The blonde man leaned over his sister to address the teacher.

"And he's, what, a sixth-year?" The professor nodded. The man shook his head in a mix of recognition and disbelief. "So he just missed Andy by a year. By a couple weeks, actually. I knew he was here when Andy started, but I guess it just didn't seem real until I saw him."

"True," his sister replied.

---------------

Ginny was pleased at how the game was progressing. As usual, the other team was no match for a Firebolt and a Retro, and she and Harry were dominating at their positions. Stevie was playing an inspired game for his family, who were watching from somewhere up in the Gryffindor stands. Ron was having a relatively easy go of it, only having let in one goal so far.

It didn't hurt that Harry had taken Cho Chang for a ride with that Wronski Feint a little while ago.

At any rate, with Gryffindor so comfortably in the lead—almost shamefully so, for a Quidditch final—the match had practically turned into a waiting game. The entire stadium was waiting for Harry to see the Snitch.

Once she saw the glimmer of gold in his path, Ginny took off toward him, perhaps being a little presumptuous about the victory, but mostly just determined to be the first one in his sights when he caught it. She was getting gradually closer when—

SLAM!

She got knocked over, almost off of her broom. Luckily she hadn't lost her grip, and jerked her head around to see where the Bludger had come from. Calvin Wilde, the seventh-year captain. Not a bad bloke usually, but probably bitter at being so thoroughly dominated in his final outing. By now Harry had raced off toward the other end of the stadium, still in pursuit of the Snitch, with Cho Chang trying desperately to keep pace.

_Alright_, Ginny thought, _if Calvin wants to be nasty, I can be nasty_. She tore off toward Betsy, who now had the Quaffle, and with one glance at Katie the three of them went streaking back toward the Ravenclaw rings.

Passing, feinting, dodging, back and forth, up and down, the three of them performed maneuvers without error and without visible effort. With Katie racing down the middle, a simple nod of her head sent Ginny and Betsy across to the opposite sides, Ginny underneath Katie as they flew, Betsy right over her. At point-blank range with the Keeper, Katie tossed the ball down to Ginny, who relayed it through a wide-open hoop.

As they rounded back toward their own end, Ginny glanced at the Ravenclaw captain, who nodded and frowned to convey that she had made her point. At just that moment, the announcer's voice started shouting and was promptly drowned out by roar of the crowd.

Ginny's eyes searched quickly for Harry as she flew off in the direction of her teammates. Despite the cheering of the crowd and the stop in play, she refused to cheer until she could see the Snitch in Harry's hand.

When his brown glove shot up into the air in triumph, and she caught a glimpse of the fluttering gold ball, she threw a fist up in celebration and screamed, flying as fast as she could to reach him.

He had caught it right underneath the Gryffindor stands, which meant that, despite her wonderfully fast broom, half of Gryffindor House reached him before she did. She could see Ron and their Beaters, Jack and Stephen, already piled on top of him. As she hopped off her Retro, she entered the bustling crowd with a shout.

"Oy! Mates! Let the Chasers through!" And the horde of red parted like the sea as she stepped toward the four boys, Katie and Betsy close behind her. Once they were in sight, the boys turned around and Ginny took off at run, dropping her broom as she was plucked off the ground by her brother.

He twirled her around in celebration and she kissed him on the cheek as they cheered to each other. When Ron put her down she was met next by Jack, who she hugged quickly. Next she turned to Stephen McGrath, who greeted her with bright eyes and a grin that took up his entire face. She squeezed him tight and gave him a peck as well, only to be torn off of him by his older brother.

"Gin, you were brilliant!" She smiled and embraced her friend, delirious with joy. He squeezed her tight before kissing her cheek and letting her go exchange hugs with her fellow Chasers. The crowd began to settle down as she finally got a chance to look around for Harry.

As she walked back toward Ron, her arm was yanked to the right and Harry's beaming face briefly came into view before she was picked up and twirled around a second time. This second turn in the air was apparently the last straw for her ponytail, which came completely undone, letting loose her red locks and capturing the shocked attention of the small group of friends and family who had come down to congratulate their son and nephew.

As Harry stopped turning and held her tight, Ginny could not know that ten feet behind her four people had stopped dead in their tracks, thinking they'd seen a ghost. From behind Ginny, all Matt McGrath, Will McGrath, Chad Caldwell, and Tracy Merton could see was a black-haired Quidditch player with glasses embracing a red-haired girl with the deepest affection and enthusiasm.

They couldn't see the girl's face, couldn't see her small nose and chocolate brown eyes so unlike the features they knew. They couldn't see that the boy's eyes were green instead of hazel, or that he had a lightning bolt scar on his forehead. They forgot for a moment that they had just watched him play an entire match at Seeker, not Chaser.

For one moment they thought they were seeing another black-haired boy and red-haired girl, who they had known at Hogwarts years before. But their reverie was rudely interrupted as Stephen ran at the boy and girl yelling, "Harry! Ginny! We won!" causing the boy to look up and the girl to turn around, beaming, and admit him into their embrace. Soon the other Gryffindor players piled on for a team hug and cheers went up with renewed intensity from the sea of crimson that surrounded them.

---------------

After a spell, after the Quidditch trophy had been presented and yet more cheering rose up from the Gryffindor students, the crowd on the pitch began to calm down and disperse in the general direction of the school. Ginny was standing with Harry, Nadine, and Andy, reminiscing about the first game they had played against Ravenclaw, when her ingenuity had begun a new trend of Quidditch uniforms at Hogwarts.

Just when Andy had caused them to laugh in remembrance of Stevie gawking at a half-naked Ginny, the very same third-year boy walked up to them, accompanied by Nadia and several adults. When Andy caught sight of his brother's companions, he smiled.

"Ginny, Harry, this is my dad, Matt McGrath," Andy said, by way of introduction. Mr. McGrath nodded and smiled, looking somewhat bittersweet when Harry reached out to shake his hand. "And this is my Aunt Tracy," he added, indicating the blonde woman who was no taller than Ginny; Andy looked to Harry, "who played Quidditch with your dad at school." Harry smiled as he followed Ginny in shaking the woman's hand.

"Nice to meet you," Ginny said, smiling. Merlin, but Mr. McGrath was handsome. Not bloody hot like Sirius had been in his prime, but handsome and kind-looking, like his son. Andy's aunt looked uneasy. None of the adults could keep their eyes off Harry.

"This is Chad Caldwell," Andy added, with regard to one of the younger men. Ginny and Harry greeted and shook hands with him, Ginny thinking that perhaps he had the same eyes and jaw as Theo.

"And this is my Uncle Will," Andy continued, gesturing to the younger blonde man, who was quite as good looking as Andy's dad, but slightly shorter and more athletically built. "This is his wife, Colleen, and my cousin Michael," he finished, indicating the nice-looking woman—who was clearly several months into another pregnancy—and the small boy at her side. When his little eyes landed on Harry, they widened and he came forward, pointing at the Boy-Who-Lived.

"Mummy, that's Harry Potter!"

"Yes, dear."

"Stevie plays with Harry Potter!"

"Yes, he does, but what have I taught you about pointing?"

"Not to do it," Michael replied, skulking back behind his mother's leg.

"Good," Colleen McGrath replied. She turned to address Harry. "Sorry about that," she offered kindly.

"Don't worry about it," Harry assured her, much too pleased about his new acquaintances to mind his celebrity. "It's great to meet people who knew my parents," Harry added. Seeing the adults glance at Ginny, then back at him, and finally at each other, Harry seemed to think he ought to lighten the mood. "Remus has never told me . . . am I anywhere near as good as my dad?" he asked, indicating toward the Quidditch pitch with the hand holding his Firebolt. Mr. McGrath looked at his older son, then to Ginny, and then back to Andy again. Tracy cleared her throat before venturing to answer Harry's question.

"You are better than James was," she managed, in a somewhat strangled voice. She attempted a half-smile, but Ginny noticed that it did not even come close to reaching her eyes. Harry and Stevie smiled at this information, which seemed to brighten her spirits a bit. Andy seemed to notice the restrained, slightly odd way that his aunt was acting. Ginny wondered if there was a reason other than grief that made Tracy Merton so uncomfortable seeing Harry and talking about the Potters.

"He played a different position, of course," Harry said to keep the conversation from stalling. Ginny smiled with approval. "I'm sure I'd be rubbish at Chasing compared to him." He glanced at Ginny, who promptly piped up.

"What do you mean _compared to him_?" she asked jokingly. "You'd be a rubbish Chaser compared to anybody!" she insisted, grinning at him playfully. He laughed.

"Certainly compared to you I would," he admitted. Ginny bit her lip, eyes still smiling at the compliment. Harry turned to Mr. McGrath. "Andrew said that you were Head Boy the year before my dad was," he offered. Andy and Stevie's dad smiled kindly.

"Yes, I was. It was an incredible year, for several reasons, not the least of which was your mother," he replied. Will McGrath and Chad Caldwell exchanged glances. Talking about Lily seemed to light up Mr. McGrath's countenance and put him at ease. Ginny thought that he must have been extremely fond of her. Interestingly, it seemed to have the opposite effect on Andy's Aunt Tracy, whose face was blank and whose jaw seemed to harden. After a pause Mr. McGrath spoke again, with an almost disbelieving smile.

"I'm sure you've heard this a million times, so please forgive me, but you look almost exactly like your father." Harry nodded.

"Yes, sir. That and my mother's eyes," he finished for him. Mr. McGrath laughed. It sounded lovely, like Matthew McGrath was honestly shocked and pleased to be talking to Lily and James' son. All the students smiled, while Andy's aunt showed no reaction.

"Yes, indeed. Your mother's green eyes. It must get bloody annoying having all these people you don't know gawking at you and telling you things when they don't know a lick about you." Harry's eyes and the nod of his head conveyed his confirmation of that statement. "For my part, I hope you will chalk it up to my affection for Lily and my great respect for James. They were the best people I've ever known, besides my wife." Ginny wanted very badly to cry when she remembered that all three of those people were dead. Chad and Will smiled in fondness for all three of the deceased. Tracy McGrath Merton was looking more uncomfortable by the minute.

"Thank you very much for saying so," Harry replied earnestly, but with a contented expression. "Everyone seems to know who they were, but no one seems to have known them. Other than Remus and Sirius, I mean." Ginny grabbed his hand without thinking, and agonized over whether to yank it back or leave it in his. The decision was made for her when his fingers entwined themselves with hers.

"It's actually kind of funny that you mention them, and that I'm finally meeting you near the end of your sixth year," Mr. McGrath began. His expression had taken on a look of pleasant recollection when Harry had mentioned Remus and Sirius. At Harry's look of curiosity, he continued. "Your father punched me once, about this time of year." Will and Chad laughed heartily, obviously knowing the incident to which Andy's dad was referring. Harry's eyes widened, but he calmed when he saw that Mr. McGrath was still grinning at the memory. "He thought your mother was in love with me, and that I was flaunting Christine in front of her."

Harry looked slightly embarrassed at this information, but was a little heartened when Ginny squeezed his hand and smiled at him. Andy and Stevie were confounded at the news of this oddly intimate connection that their parents apparently had with Harry's.

"Why did he think that?" Harry asked, the tone of his voice expressing his hope that his father had had a good reason for punching him. Mr. McGrath laughed openly at his question. Harry seemed a bit less anxious; if Matt McGrath could laugh about it now, it couldn't have been too bad, could it?

"That's what reminded me of this, actually. When you mentioned Remus and Sirius." Harry looked curious. "You see, your dad had fancied your mum for a few years before that, and she had never given him the time of day. And around the same time, I had started suspecting that Remus was a werewolf," he explained. Ginny liked that the fact that Remus being a werewolf didn't seem to matter in the slightest to this man, or to Will McGrath or his wife, or to Chad Caldwell. Oh yes, this was Andy and Stevie's family, all right.

"So, your father and his friends got wind of my suspicion, you see, and decided that James would drink this stuff called Polyjuice Potion"—Ginny and Harry shared a knowing look—"which would make him appear to be Remus, so that 'Remus' would be able to do his Prefect rounds during the full moon, thus disproving my theory." The kids all smiled. "And their plan worked like a charm, until James started to Polyjuice himself for every one of Remus' patrols with her, and she, thinking he was Remus, became good friends with him and told him all about this boy she was in love with, who was now dating one of her best friends."

Harry was transfixed. Ginny got the impression that he had never gotten this kind of memory from Remus or Sirius. It seemed to relax him, and she was glad to see that their little group was now quite alone on the Quidditch pitch.

"So, who was the boy?" Nadine asked, clearly enraptured in the story. Mr. McGrath looked at her with all the affection of a family friend who had known her for her entire life.

"Well, James thought it was me, because it had recently come out that Christine—their mother—" he motioned to Andy and Stevie, "and I had been dating. But it was really your dad," he said, looking at Harry with a smile. "You see, there had been a terrible misunderstanding earlier in the year, when your mum had somehow come to the conclusion that James was dating my sister," he motioned to the strangely uneasy Tracy standing to his side. "And of course, the fact that James was hearing this, and Lily thought he was Remus, didn't make it any less confusing when the truth finally came out."

"But what did Sirius have to do with all this?" Ginny asked, startling Harry out of his reverie.

"Ah, well, he was the only one who could have prevented all the confusion, because he had already become close mates with your mum," he started, eyes still on Harry. "He had somehow discovered that Lily was arse over elbows in love with your dad, but thought that the only way she would give him a chance in person, was if she got to know him without the presumptions and misconceptions she had about him. I can only assume he thought that the Polyjuice scheme provided the perfect opportunity for that."

"Except for one small problem," a new voice added. Harry and Ginny grinned with delight when they saw a tired, but happy-looking Remus Lupin walking up to the group. Mr. McGrath looked happy to see him, as did Chad and Will. Remus put out his hand, for Andy's dad. "Nice to see you, Matt," he said kindly.

"You too, Remus," Mr. McGrath replied warmly. They seemed very familiar with each other, and this visibly added to Harry's general contentment with the occasion. "You remember my sister, Tracy?" Matt said politely, briefly setting his hand on her shoulder. Remus nodded to the blonde woman.

"Of course," he said with equal politeness, although it was abundantly clear that Tracy and Remus did not share the fond feelings that Matt and Remus did. "Hi Tracy," he greeted her.

"Hello, Remus," she said with not a little stiffness. Harry's expression darkened slightly. As Remus exchanged much more pleasant greetings with the other three adults, Ginny wondered whether it was the werewolf issue or something to do with the Potters that had come between the former housemates. Remus, observant as usual, turned the conversation back to its original subject.

"Like I was saying, the plan was brilliant until Lily ruined it all," he said jokingly. Mr. McGrath laughed.

"What'd she do?" Harry asked, not knowing whether to laugh or be a little concerned.

"Well, she began to fancy the Remus she knew from her patrols. Only it wasn't me, it was James. So she was pretty confused when her Prefect partner acted like one bloke during their walks around the school, and then acted totally different in classes and things," he finished. Ginny, Nadine, and Nadia were all taking in the story with considerable affection. The boys seemed amused at the predicament Sirius had declined to prevent.

"And when James found out that Christine and I were dating," Matt added, "he jumped to the conclusion that Lily fancied me, and that I was torturing her by subbing for Remus when he missed patrols for the full moon. So he confronted me, and punched me, and I assured him that Lily did not have feelings for me, and on the absolutely preposterous chance that she might, I certainly didn't know about them."

As Harry was shaking his head and smiling at the funny memory, he removed his hand from Ginny's and slid it around her waist, causing her to lean in casually against him. Neither of them seemed to notice as they shifted positions.

"But he must not have believed me, because soon after that, when I was filling in for Remus another time, he came after me again, only as Remus this time. But he didn't get to punch me, because Lily stunned him and knocked him down before he could get one off." Everyone laughed, and Harry looked delighted at the actions of his mother. "Anyway, I left them to their patrol, thinking it was Remus, but that was the night that James let the potion wear off, and Tracy came running after them because she had found out about the plan, and Lily found out."

"Needless to say, she was furious," Remus added, picking up the story. Ginny and Nadine shared a look and nodded to express their agreement with Lily's take on the issue. "By that time, all of us except for James and Lily knew that they were mad for each other. Lily was simply livid at everyone other than Matt and Christine. James was mad at the situation, because the girl he adored had only liked him when he looked like someone else. Tracy and another girl in our year, Samantha Caldwell—Chad's sister—" he indicated Chad, and the mention of the name Ginny recognized as belonging to Theo's mother caused the expressions of the men in the group to darken briefly, "were outraged that James and Sirius would do such a thing. It was quite a mess."

"But everything turned out in the end, right?" Ginny proposed, causing Harry to turn his head and look down at her where she stood by his side. "I mean, they got married and everything, didn't they?" He started when he noticed their proximity, but when Ginny didn't seem to notice, he relaxed again.

"Yes," Remus replied with a slight smirk. "But not until Lily made him wait all summer before she would agree to officially go out with him."

The conversation carried on in this manner for some time, with Remus and Matt McGrath recalling stories about James, Lily, Sirius, and Christine, and the children all listening in rapt attention. No one seemed to notice Andy's Aunt Tracy, who trailed the group stoically as they retreated under the falling darkness to the Great Hall for dinner.

They were all so wrapped up in their reminiscences and stories that no one noticed when Mrs. Merton left the group. No one noticed her reaction to seeing their blonde Defense professor in the corridor, and no one noticed the hardening of the professor's gaze and jaw.

But Ginny did notice when Theo Nott joined them at the family table in the Great Hall, and watched as he was greeted by his Uncle Chad, and by the elder McGrath men with warmth and not a little respect. She chuckled to herself as she watched Stephen try to work out whether he could finally, openly greet their long-time family friend.

Theo smiled to himself as the youngest McGrath brother gave him a hug.

----------------

Ginny was growing sleepy as she walked back from the Room of Requirement. Luna had caught up with her as they were leaving dinner and they'd met up for a visit. Ginny was taking the long way back, as she suspected that the common room would still be very much in uproar with the Quidditch victory party, and she wanted to gather her thoughts before facing her rambunctious housemates. As she passed the Owlry, she heard voices—a man and a woman, it sounded like—and she paused near the entrance to find out whose they were.

Tracy Merton stood with her arms crossed over her chest, staring out the window at the moon.

"You all right?" Mr. McGrath asked his sister as he leaned a shoulder against the wall. Ginny envied his effortless ability to look casual and poised.

"Did you expect me to be?" Mrs. Merton asked without moving. They stood like that for a while before a slow smile appeared on Mr. McGrath's face.

"He flies just like his father," he said. "The way he grabbed his broom and kicked off—"

"He doesn't fly a thing like James," Tracy said coldly, cutting him off and stiffening her posture to such a degree that Ginny thought she couldn't possibly be comfortable. "When James flew, people watched. He was flashy and brilliant and daring for the audience. Harry—Harry flies like Lily cast charms: with an understated brilliance that makes it look so easy that it doesn't seem impressive."

"Tracy—"

"Don't."

"You needed to come."

"I did not," Tracy said. "I came because you wanted me to see him. Well, I did. Are you happy now? I know what I gave up. I knew it when I chose to move away. I know it now. And what do you want me to say? That I wish I would've stayed? That I should have been more like you or _Gertrude Wrightman_, or even Severus Snape? I won't. I won't because I could have just as easily been Lily or James or Christine—"

"Don't you _dare_!" snapped Mr. McGrath in a voice that did not seem to be his own. "Don't you _dare_ say it was okay to run because look what happened to my wife!"

"She died, Matt, because she and Lily chose to broadcast their alliances." Ginny would have cursed this angry-speaking idiot of a woman, but Mr. McGraths' words beat her to the punch.

"She was attacked. She was attacked by Dementors and I wasn't enough of a master at the Patronus to do anything until it was too late." Ginny wanted to cry, wanted to walk forward and embrace that stranger who looked so much like her best friend. That was why he had wanted Andy and Stevie to learn the charm so badly. That was why—oh, it hurt too much to think about.

"She was my best friend, Matt. It hurts me too."

"Oh, so that's why you didn't write her—"

"Is this why you invited me here? To rub it in my face that I left them all behind?"

"This isn't about you, Tracy," Mr. McGrath said. "This is about my son and the fact that he wanted his legendary aunt, the Gryffindor Beater, to see his big match."

"Well, I saw the game. I don't see why we can't leave or why you're on such friendly terms with a werewolf." Oh, yes, it was official: Ginny Weasley hated Tracy Merton. "What's next? Are you going to invite Gertrude Wrightman and Severus Snape to talk about Lily when we know she would have sold Lily to Voldemort? And Snape did!"

Mr. McGrath looked as disgusted as Ginny felt.

"You don't know either of them, let alone Remus Lupin! All your life you've assumed you understood the world. Well, why don't you go owl the only person you made an effort to stay friends with at school: the wife of the bastard who probably ordered those Dementor attacks."

"Even though she was wrong, Sam was just doing what I did: she married to protect her family!"

"No," Matt McGrath said, sounding angrier than anyone Ginny had ever heard before. "All I know is that she stayed neutral, so perfectly _neutral_, while better women fought."

"Maybe that's true, but Samantha and I are still alive. Our sons have their mothers." Ginny had to physically restrain herself to keep from hexing Tracy Merton. Matt McGrath voiced what was going through her head.

"Yes, because that's worked out _so_ well for Theo," he bit back.

The two stood there glaring and angry, and Ginny wondered if hexing Mrs. Merton from this distance would land her in any sort of trouble. Maybe if she didn't use her wand . . .

"Don't let Andy get involved, Matt," his sister finally said, breaking the silence.

"What?"

"Take him out—out of Hogwarts if you have to," Tracy said.

"We will not run from what's coming."

"She's poison for him," Andy's aunt continued. "She'll drag him into the thick of things, and he'll be the one that's hurt," she pressed on and Ginny felt her chest tighten with a suspicion that was confirmed a moment later. "Ginny Weasley will be in the middle of this conflict. She's just like Lily, and you saw her with Harry today, just like I did. Don't tell me you weren't having flashbacks."

So many thoughts coursed through Ginny's mind right then that she barely caught hold of one. How odd that Tracy Merton, who was both a Gryffindor and in Harry's mum's year, should think that Ginny was like Lily, when Gertrude Wrightman was convinced they were opposites. Maybe it was just the red hair. Maybe that was why people associated them with each other.

Either way, Ginny had a hunch that Professor Wrightman had known Lily somewhat better than Andy's Aunt could ever claim to. She certainly knew Ginny better than the hard-hearted woman in front of her now.

"You haven't changed," Mr. McGrath said. "All these years and you haven't changed."

"Neither, apparently, have you," she replied, as if to scold him. "You're still just as willing to put those you love in mortal peril. Don't you remember what it felt like to lose Christine?"

"I don't have to remember. I live with it every day." Mr. McGrath returned coldly. "Every day I wake up and she isn't beside me. Seeing Andrew grow up to look just like her, watching him struggle with Nadine and knowing Christine could have helped him, I remember that because we weren't prepared, my best friend died and my children hurt because of it. Stevie doesn't remember her and he doesn't know what to think of the women I date and neither do I, because while I have found myself loving one or two, none of them are Christine and none of them ever will be.

"But do you know what gets me through? The knowledge that people like Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter are in my sons' lives. The knowledge that Gertrude Wrightman and Remus Lupin are watching over them. Ginny Weasley would die or kill to protect my sons and Harry Potter, as young as he is, opposes every wrong. He is his mother's son, no matter that she didn't raise him, and Ginny Weasley is his James, his partner, his support.

"You're right that I had flashbacks out on that field, but it was not of two people I loved that died, it was of two people that I once saw run toward Death Eaters attacking a house to help the people inside. Don't you dare tell me that I should want to keep my sons away from people like that."

Ginny, blinking back tears that she hated and an overwhelming sense of responsibility and pride, decided it was time to leave. She walked back to the common room, replaying the conversation in her head and hating Mrs. Merton and adoring Mr. McGrath more each time.

When she reached her room, Ginny went to her trunk and pulled out the old yearbook photos that she had copied and planned to give to Harry at the Leaving Feast. It had been an extraordinary year for Gryffindor all those years ago. But as amazing as they may have been, what they became was hard to accept: four were dead, one had run from the magical world, one was a Death Eater, one had married a Death Eater, and the last was a betrayed werewolf.

Ginny stayed there for a long moment, a single unanswerable question refusing to leave her head: _Is that what would happen to her generation?_

_-----------------_

Ginny was walking down to breakfast the next morning with Kerney, Andy, Stevie, Nadine, and Nadia, when they came upon Andy's dad in the front hall of the school. He was standing with Professor Wrightman, Theo, and Naomi Ryan, having what appeared to be a rather pleasant conversation. Ginny didn't remember her Defense professor ever looking so animated in the presence of another adult. Except for Sirius, of course. She wondered if Professor Wrightman would react the same way to Remus.

When Mr. McGrath noticed them, he brightened and called out to his sons. The teenagers all walked over, and Andy's dad was introduced to the Kernel. Ginny stood next to Theo, who nodded in greeting, and smiled at Professor Wrightman, who nodded with kind eyes and—_could it be?_—almost smiled. And then the funniest thing happened.

When Professor Wrightman indicated that she was going to take her leave, Matt McGrath smiled warmly (and a little sadly) and stepped forward to give her hug. Her face began its automatic response of withdrawing from expressing any emotion, causing Mr. McGrath to hesitate and draw back. In that instant, Ginny saw a look of horror briefly flash through her teacher's eyes; but it was different than anything she'd seen before. It was horror at her own reaction; horror that her body and emotions were so well trained, so finely manipulated, that they denied her the ability to express the ones she actually _wanted_ to convey.

Rather than take offense or be embarrassed, Andy's dad seemed to understand. He extended his hand, and shook hers kindly. He wished her luck in her teaching endeavor, and expressed his desire that they meet again soon. It had been too long since the last time they spoke, he said. Gertrude Wrightman nodded, and—Ginny could have sworn the professor shot her a glance—said that she would make a point to ask them over for tea during the summer. Apparently, this wasn't an empty gesture, because Mr. McGrath looked rather gratified.

As her Defense professor left, Ginny paused for a moment and followed her.

"Professor?" she asked, causing the petite blonde woman to stop and turn, a knowing look on her face.

"Yes, Miss Weasley?" she replied patiently.

"Was that for my benefit?" Ginny asked.

"Which part," her teacher answered.

"The part about Andy and his dad coming to your house for tea over the summer holiday," Ginny offered.

"Not entirely," was the reply. Ginny smiled, mouth closed. Professor Wrightman had made the invitation both to comfort Ginny about spending the summer in a strange place and soothe Andy's dad at the same time. Ginny decided that she liked the changes that came over her teacher when the woman's old schoolmates were around. She was starting to see how Sirius could have been attracted to her.

She was his opposite in every way, notwithstanding the hard-and-fast sense of loyalty instilled in them both. Where Sirius was outwardly brash and rebellious, only rarely slipping into the manners and proper decorum that had been ingrained in him during childhood, Gertrude Wrightman was the picture of contained and controlled self-possession, only rarely allowing a glimpse of raw emotion. But even with the family issues that divided them, Ginny knew now, after all she had seen, that Gertrude's feelings for Sirius had been—perhaps still were—as strong for him as his had been for her.

It was strangely comforting.

"Thank you," Ginny replied, both for herself and on behalf of her friend's father.

"Not quite so deliberately mean, then?" Professor Wrightman asked. Ginny chuckled.

"No, ma'am," she agreed and, with a nod, her professor turned and left.

By the time Ginny turned back to join her friends, they were gone. She looked to the entrance of the Great Hall, and saw the last of the doors shutting behind Nadia and Stephen. Turning back to the front doors of the school, Ginny saw Mr. McGrath standing alone, looking at her expectantly. When he saw that she had noticed him, he smiled and began walking toward her. She did the same.

"Hello, Ginny," he greeted her. She couldn't help the grin that sprang to her face.

"Hi," she answered politely, not sure why he wanted to speak with her.

"I just wanted to say . . . well, I've heard a lot about you from Andrew, and Nadine, and . . . Stephen." here he paused to smile on Stevie's name, and Ginny blushed, remembering the crush Andy's younger brother still had on her. "Well, I've heard a great deal about you, Miss Weasley, and to know that you are also very good friends with Harry Potter and Theo Nott, well, it makes me very happy." Ginny was slightly embarrassed to hear this, but kept herself from showing it.

"Er . . . I'm glad," she said, in as perky a way as she could manage. Andy's dad grinned at the awkwardness, but then his tone took on semblance of gravity.

"Listen, I've spoken with Gertrude Wrightman this weekend, and I thought you should know something, from someone else who knew Harry's mother. Don't let people compare you to Lily." Ginny's mind jumped back to the vehement row she had overheard the night before, as well as to her own discussion with Professor Wrightman on a similar subject. He continued.

"You might hear things like that in the coming months, but I want you to remember, always remember, that you are unique. You may have red hair, but you are not Lily, and she wasn't you. And anyone who says otherwise either doesn't know you or they didn't know Lily. You are both so important to us, but for very different reasons. Just don't forget that you are your own person, and you should be who you were meant to be." He spoke so earnestly, in such an obvious attempt to reassure her, that Ginny was beginning to worry that something was wrong.

"Mr. McGrath, is everything all right?" she couldn't help asking. He appeared to shake himself out of his grave countenance at the concern in her voice. He considered her thoughtfully for a moment, until a small smile spread onto his face.

"Yes," he said after a moment, the smile extending a little further. "Yes, I believe it is." He extended his had to shake hers. She took it with pleasure. "It was very nice to meet you."

"It was lovely to meet you, too," she returned. He smiled then, in a way that Lily would have recognized as one of the smiles he used to humor Christine with at school.

"See you this summer," he said cryptically, before turning to leave. Having started toward the Great Hall, Ginny's brow furrowed as she wondered what he meant. Then it hit her: Professor Wrightman apparently trusted him enough to tell him about their summer arrangement. She turned back to address him on the subject, but he was gone.

---------------

The lull that descended upon Hogwarts after the Quidditch Final was lightened only by the gradually improving weather. It was getting sunnier, and the rain was less biting each time it fell, but the pressure of impending O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams for the fifth- and seventh-years seemed to make all the other students grouchy and somewhat less cheerful than usual.

Ginny's classes had become an odd mix of harried revision (in her O.W.L. classes) and perfunctory calm (in her N.E.W.T. courses). The only classes that brought any semblance of fun or humor were Defense and Potions. In Defense, she often had the opportunity to practice hexes and shields with an increasingly pleasant Harry, while in Potions the monotony was periodically broken by Professor Snape's derisive mocking and, on occasion, a delicious quip from her esteemed partner.

Theo had returned to school with a gravity to his person that had not been there before. The old Theo was still in there somewhere, as evidenced by the smirk that graced his face every time he made Ginny laugh, but otherwise he always seemed . . . preoccupied now.

Ginny tried to carry on as if nothing was different, comprising the lion's share of the conversation as they worked, in their usual way. Once in a while she would look up to find him watching . . . no, considering her in a thoughtful way. When he saw that she had caught him, he would simply smile and return his attention to his part of the assignment. It happened during meals in the Great Hall as well.

She had expected that his direct personality would lead him to broach the subject of the rather passionate kiss they had shared outside Dumbledore's office, but perhaps the chain of events that immediately followed had buried it in his mind for the foreseeable future. She doubted this latter theory, however, as she had found Devon looking at her strangely during their last two Potions study sessions.

As Ginny sat her remaining O.W.L. tests, her thoughts turned to the Seventh-Year Ball. She had nearly forgotten about it in the quick succession of events that had started with her date with Theo, until Luna had mentioned it the night of the Quidditch Final. And it hadn't been one of her spacey, idle musings either; Luna had learned the day before that Cho Chang—having broken up with Michael Corner yet again a week before the Quidditch championship—had asked Harry to be her date the Ball.

And he had accepted.

When Ginny asked why Luna hadn't told her this as soon as she found out, Luna replied that she didn't want to spoil the Quidditch Final for Ginny.

Indeed.

Ginny chastised herself, but she couldn't help wondering whether Cho had done it exactly for the reason Luna had held off on telling her. Everyone had been predicting that Gryffindor would have no trouble with Ravenclaw in the final, and Cho must have known that she didn't stand a chance against Harry in getting the Snitch. Her only hope would have been a poor performance by the Gryffindor Chasers. Had she done it with the intention that Harry would tell Ginny before the match, or that someone would overhear and inform her before they lined up to play, thinking that Ginny would dissolve into a pathetic wretch, completely useless on a broom?

Maybe in her second year, she might have, but if Cho Chang thought Ginny could be thrown off that easily now, she had another thing coming. Or maybe Cho hadn't thought about the Quidditch game at all. Maybe she just wanted a popular boy to flaunt around at the Ball. It would undoubtedly rub Michael the wrong way to know they were going to together.

As much as Ginny liked Baron Ramsey, she couldn't deny that she wished she was going to the Ball with Harry instead. Then again, if they hadn't been asked by seventh-year students, they wouldn't be going at all. At this point, Ginny wasn't sure she wouldn't prefer staying at home with Harry. But Baron was counting on her, and he had honored her by singling her out. So she would go.

----------------

As Ginny was walking with Luna on their way back from their habitual visit to Hagrid, a commotion down the corridor from the Great Hall caught her attention. The scuffling and the raised voices sounded familiar and, sure enough, when they got closer Ginny recognized one head of untidy black hair and another head of silvery-blonde in the midst of bodies tossing and hitting each other. Exchanging a glance with Luna, they hurried to join the onlookers who were not about to step in and attempt to separate the life-long enemies.

Among the students observing the tussle was Theo, a fact which seemed odd to Ginny and made her pause thoughtfully before she remembered why she had come over in the first place.

"HEY!" she shouted at the top of her lungs, causing the two boys to halt their mutual assault on each other, and causing the students around them to gawk at her and Luna. "What are you on about?" she asked, causing Harry to look sheepish. He went to stand up, and brushed his pants and shirt off. Unfortunately for him, Malfoy had no intention of stopping their duel, and grabbed his wand. By the time Ginny noticed that Malfoy was doing something from the ground, there was no way to stop the hex from hitting Harry in the back.

But Harry must have been able to sense what was coming—or perhaps his many years of experience with Malfoy as a nemesis had taught him to be cautious—because he threw up a block just in time, and turned back toward Draco, blasting him back into the wall, knocking him out.

"POTTER!" came the familiar, angry voice of their Potions professor. Harry's shoulders slumped in resignation, knowing that he would get no favors from Snape. When Ginny looked up to see where Professor Snape was coming from, she was slightly surprised to see Professor Wrightman approaching as well.

As both professors arrived and took in the scene, Theo calmly took out his wand and sent a second blasting curse toward Malfoy, throwing his unconscious form against the wall a second time, though not very hard. Ginny was shocked at this, but nearly laughed at the perplexed expressions on the faces of the two Slytherin faculty members. Theo was certainly not in the habit of getting detention, and both Professor Snape and Professor Wrightman appeared to be absolutely confounded at his behavior.

"What is the meaning of this!" Snape finally ground out, his frustration at being unable to account for Theo's behavior evident in his temper. Harry shrugged, watching Theo curiously—and not a little skeptically. Feeling eyes on her, Ginny turned to find Professor Wrightman observing her keenly. Luna snorted in amusement, though Ginny could hardly pick out what she had found so funny.

"Sir," Theo piped up, again to the surprise of all present. "Draco was insulting Harry's mother, who is, as you know, no longer with us. He was provoking Harry to the point where he was forced to retaliate. Frankly, Draco deserved it, because he fired the first curse. Apparently he neglected to recall that Harry has always been his superior in Defense, and Harry's return volley hit home." Snape's countenance didn't seem to take Theo's characteristically blunt explanation in a favorable way.

"And is there a particular reason why you felt the need to curse Mr. Malfoy after the fact?" Snape demanded sourly.

"Yes, sir." Theo confirmed calmly. Ginny had to try very hard not to burst out laughing, as Snape's face began to flush in anger when Theo did not answer further.

"And would you be so kind as to explain your reasoning to us, Mr. Nott?" Snape ventured, clearly resenting Theo's patronizing response.

"He deserved it, sir." How Theo was able to maintain a stoic countenance, Ginny would never know. For her part, she was biting her fist to keep from laughing, and could feel Luna shaking in contained mirth behind her. A look on the other side of Professor Snape showed wry amusement on the face of Professor Wrightman. Snape seemed to be somewhat flustered by Theo's unexpected actions to process what was going on, and when on the part he knew best.

"Detention, both of you. Tomorrow night." But before he could continue, Professor Wrightman broke in calmly but forcefully.

"If you both would come to my office at 8:00, I will provide you with a suitable activity." Snape scowled at her interference, but she paid him no mind.

The small crowd began to disperse, mostly toward the Great Hall for dinner. As she and Luna went to join them, Ginny noticed Harry watching Theo walk away with the rest of the Slytherins. He was clearly unsure what to think about what had just transpired.

----------------

For that night, and the entirety of the following day, Ginny was hard at work trying to suss out what would make Theo act so oddly. In the end, all she could think was that he wanted an opportunity to speak with Harry alone, with no chance that someone else would interrupt them, and no way that Harry could leave before Theo finished what he wanted to say. That left Ginny with the much more interesting question of what exactly Theo had to say to Harry that was so important.

It was with these thoughts in mind that Ginny decided a walk around the school felt like a good idea. After about an hour of searching out the most common detention sites, she came upon the corridor that housed the trophy rooms. Her heartbeat quickened with excitement as she heard a familiar voice coming from within the middle room, which held all the non-Quidditch and non-academic awards. As she began to listen from outside the door, she found that she had arrived at a most opportune moment.

"Do you even understand what hanging out with you does to a person in the eyes of a Slytherin?" Theo asked Harry. "Most of my housemates flinch back at the mere mention of you."

"Because Malfoy hates me?" Harry guessed.

Theo gave him a rather patronizing look. "It's more because of the Dark Lord."

"Oh. Right," Harry said, looking a bit embarrassed about the fact he hadn't thought to mention the Dark Lord that was constantly trying to off him.

"I've heard that you don't really acknowledge how famous you are," Theo said, "and that you avoid being the center of attention when Polyjuiced professors aren't putting your name in enchanted cups, but I promise you that no one else has forgotten who you are or why you're famous. You're the poster child for the fight against the Dark Lord and while I don't mind an association like that, you can be sure that some people desperately want to avoid any mention of being in the same room as you."

"People who want to be Death Eaters," Harry said.

"People who don't want to fight," Theo corrected. "People who don't want to be used as bait to lure you into the Department of Mysteries. People who don't want to be involved in the politics of war."

"You."

"Me? No. I'm not one of those people," Theo said, smiling a half-smile. "I quite enjoy the fact that your association irritates my father and makes my mother feel a lot of guilt, which leads to lots of wine at family meals."

"Thanks," Harry replied sardonically. Ginny had to bottle up a snort of amusement in order not to have her presence detected.

"Devon Pearce isn't one of those people either, you know," Theo added, clearly startling Harry out of his wry expression.

"What do you mean 'Devon Pearce isn't one of those people?' What does she have to do with anything?" Harry asked, doing a pretty poor job of pretending he didn't know exactly what Theo was getting at. Theo sent him a look that indicated he wasn't interested in humoring him. Harry sighed and put down the plaque he was cleaning. "Ginny told you about Potions." A scowl—almost a pout—was evident in his voice.

"No, my best friend told me," Theo corrected. At Harry's very confused look, he clarified: "Devon Pearce. We've been friends since before we started at Hogwarts." Ginny was surprised to hear Theo say this, but once she thought about it, it made sense. Devon had been the one who initially brought Theo to her attention, and Theo was a topic of conversation between them more than anyone else besides Harry.

"She told you about Potions?" Harry inquired, somewhat anxiously.

"She told me that she was studying with Ginny twice a week, and that you joined them in their study sessions. Since you aren't in Potions this year, I figured that you missed the requirement for N.E.W.T. Potions and still wanted to sit the exam. It's been done before—Snape isn't the first member of the faculty to set the bar for N.E.W.T. classes outrageously high in order to weed out the students he doesn't want. And most people assume that you're going to be an Auror when you get out of school, so it made sense that you'd want to keep studying a subject that you haven't shown much enthusiasm for in the past."

"That's essentially it," Harry confirmed resignedly. "But Ginny was getting ready to take her Potions O.W.L. early and she had to catch up in the N.E.W.T. material, so it wasn't just for me."

"There would be nothing wrong with your arrangement if it was," Theo assured him. Ginny smiled at the fact that Theo could recognize where Harry needed to be reassured, and chose to alleviate his anxiety rather than exploit it. "As I understand it, Devon was pleased for the opportunity to spend time with her friend outside of class, and intrigued by the opportunity to see what you were really like."

"Which brings us back to our original subject. You said Devon isn't one of those people who doesn't want to be seen with me on account of politics and Voldemort. But she only spends time with Ginny and me in secret, and under the excuse of studying. Why should we consider her our friend if she's hiding us? Isn't she just like the people you're talking about?" Theo shook his head.

"No. She's doing it because, on the off-chance that circumstances deteriorate to how things were the first time Voldemort was a threat, it will be important for you and Ginny to have allies in Slytherin that the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters are unaware of. Your mother and Professor Wrightman conducted their friendship under a similar arrangement for many years. Only your father, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and the McGraths knew of their close friendship, but for a long time only Sirius Black knew about it."

Harry paused thoughtfully, recalling what he had learned from Ginny and Professor Wrightman on the subject. He nodded slowly, as he came to the conclusion that Theo's theory was on the right track.

"So, what about you?" Harry asked. "I can understand your reasons for resenting the people who brought you up, since I certainly resent the people who raised me, but that can't be the only reason you don't mind being seen with me. When you cursed Malfoy yesterday, you might as well have thrown your lot in with me against Voldemort. You know how Malfoy is. He'll run and tell his daddy." Theo nodded in agreement.

"My situation is different from Devon's," Theo explained. "Because of my last name, the first thing everyone thinks is that I'm a little Death Eater-in-training like Malfoy. What most people don't know, and what you probably didn't know until the day of the Quidditch Final, is that the other side of my family was closely connected to those who opposed the Dark Lord, including your parents. Matt McGrath and his wife Christine, Will McGrath, and my Uncle Chad were very close to your parents. You saw how friendly they were with Professor Lupin and Professor Wrightman."

"But not Andy's Aunt Tracy," Harry said.

"No, not Andy's Aunt Tracy. She fled the wizarding world almost as soon as she left Hogwarts. She married a Muggle and has chosen to shelter her magical children from our world. Much like my mother, she was a coward who selfishly chose to run away from the war rather than fight. Also like my mother, she has become increasingly more bitter as she realizes the regret of her decision to hide."

Harry seemed to appreciate Theo's bluntness. No one but Remus, Sirius, Hermione, Ron, and the twins had ever been this straight with him before. In response, Harry went over to a shelf housing year books from the twentieth century and found the volume for a particular year. He flipped to a page and then brought it over to Theo.

"This is your mum," Harry said, showing what looked like a photo to Theo, who raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Did you always know they were friends?"

"Your mother and mine?"

"Yes."

"Yes."

"You didn't say anything."

"I'm sorry, should I have made us matching friendship bracelets because our mothers were in the same year?"

Harry narrowed his eyes. "They were best friends."

"And yours died a hero while mine married a Slytherin who was widely suspected of being a Death Eater. I can only imagine they had some sort of falling out," Theo said, turning back to his detention task of cleaning the trophies.

"Your father _is_ a Death Eater, isn't he?"

"He's in prison," Theo replied. Ginny noticed that he never actually incriminated his father. Well-played with an undertone of familial loyalty that Ginny found very attractive, despite the subject it was directed toward. "Sometimes being an orphan doesn't seem so bad, does it?"

"Obviously you've never met my aunt and uncle." Harry put down the special award trophy and picked up a Quidditch Cup.

"If you would quit saving the school so damn much we'd have less work," Theo observed wryly. Harry shook his head.

"I didn't save anything. The trophies were ceremonial."

Theo rolled his eyes. Well, Ginny couldn't even see his eyes right then, but she knew he was rolling them. "Fighting a Basilisk and saving Ginny's life seems a bit more than ceremonial."

"How'd you know about that?"

"It's impossible to keep a secret in these walls." Theo held his trophy up to the light.

"You kept your mother's identity a secret for a while. And your relationship with Ginny."

"About my mother, I hid nothing. I just didn't bring it up."

"That's keeping a secret."

"I don't exactly see you gabbing on about your family."

"They're dead. It's not the same."

"You'd be surprised how similar death and Azkaban can feel." Theo kept polishing. "Or maybe you wouldn't. You see Thestals and from your reaction on the Quidditch pitch, you seem to feel the Dementors like I do."

"I didn't faint." Boys were stupid with their pride sometimes.

"You fell off your broom and blacked out."

"I lost consciousness."

Theo motioned as if to say, _same thing_. They continued for a time in silence and just as Ginny was beginning to accept that they were fine with one another and she didn't need to stay (and that they wouldn't keep talking so she didn't have a reason to keep eavesdropping) Theo started talking again.

"What are you doing with Ginny Weasley?"

"What?"

"That's rapidly becoming one of the most irritating responses I've ever heard."

Harry looked at Theo and asked, "Well, what do you mean 'what am I doing with Ginny?'"

"I mean that she's in love with you and she's not about to give another bloke a chance unless she's sure you're dead, gay, or secretly a Weasley already, though I'm not sure either of the first two would make her completely give up."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Then you're a moron. A blind moron, and I'm going to have to assume it's the second option."

"I'm not gay!"

"Denial's the first sign—"

"She doesn't love me."

"I don't even know how to respond to such a patronizing statement . . . and the thought that she's pining away for you—"

"I didn't see her pining away when you two were snogging in front of me," Harry replied hotly.

"You didn't see her initiate anything either, did you?"

"Like that matters."

"Of course it matters. Who can resist me?" Theo asked facetiously. Ginny smiled. "Only a girl that can't get over another bloke." Ginny stopped smiling. "And you obviously like her. Maybe you even love her, I don't know. So why can't you ask her out, prove yourself a mere mortal, and fade away into your next heroic deed?"

"I'm not going to date her," Harry said defiantly. Ginny's heart, which had expanded at the thought of Harry liking her, suddenly broke in two. Ouch.

"Then you really are a moron." Both the boys had stopped shining trophies and stared at each other. "I can't see how any bloke wouldn't want to be with her." Harry glared.

"Of course I want to be with Ginny!" he shot back, reviving Ginny's spirits slightly. "Of course I do, but it's not that simple."

"She's infatuated with you and you with her. I'm missing the complication."

"Voldemort is the complication."

"Why? Because he might try harder to kill you if you're dating a redheaded girl?" Theo asked, smirking sarcastically. "I'm pretty sure he's trying his best as it is."

"I'm not worried about him trying harder to kill _me_," Harry said. "I'm worried about him trying to kill _Ginny_."

"You think she's not already in danger?" Theo returned, starting to lose his cool a little. "Did you hit your head and get amnesia, making you forget what happened in second year?"

Harry shook his head. "That wasn't him. It was a memory of him trapped in an old diary." Ginny wasn't sure if that's all it was. She supposed she and Professor Wrightman would find out over the summer.

"Doesn't matter. She's on his radar. Even if it weren't for that, she most certainly is for having that particular shade of red hair and the last name Weasley. Dating you would be like a chocolate chip buried in large cookie of reasons."

"His primary goal is to kill me." Harry said.

"Then all these years he's been lying to his minions who believe he wants to take over the world."

"I'd be putting a bull's eye on her forehead."

"So what?"

"So what!" Harry raged back. "I don't know what I would do if—if anything happened to her." Ginny was frozen in place, her emotions dueling between happiness at hearing him say those words so earnestly and fury at his insistence on staying away from her.

"You'd probably go off and kill the Dark Lord like you're supposed to anyway."

"I won't let her be hurt!"

"Then you're being selfish," Theo said.

"It's not selfish to want her to live."

"Yes it is," Theo said, sounding rather passionate. He leaned toward Harry as kept speaking. "How can you stand there and not want to give that girl anything her heart desires? Do you really want to make her miserable? Do you even _realize_ the power you have over her? She would do anything for you. Are you willing to do the same for her? If you're not, then you don't love her, and you should make that clear so she can move on with her life." Harry looked momentarily stricken by what Theo had said, before his face dipped into the hero-scowl that he had perfected over the years.

"So she can move on with you, you mean." Theo shrugged and nodded.

"Preferably, yes, but more than anything I want her to be happy. And let me be clear: It's more important for her to be _happy_ than for her to be _safe_. I'm sure she would agree. And I won't let you ruin her life."

"If I gave in, if I asked her out and made her my girlfriend, _that _would ruin her life. That would _end_ her life."

"No, you're being an idiot again," Theo said, beginning to show his impatience in his tone of voice. "None of that matters. Do you think Matt McGrath regretted marrying Christine just because she died? Do you think that even for a second Christine regretted accepting his offer because she died? Did she think that accepting his proposal ruined her life? And do you really think Gertrude Wrightman is proud of the decision that protected her, the decision she made to turn away from Sirius Black?" His knowledge of some subjects was a little overwhelming at times. "And do you really think Ginny would be less angry at you if you rejected her and went away than she would be fighting at your side? If you do, then you don't deserve her."

"I _don't_ deserve her."

"No one does, but you've saved the wizarding world. Like twenty times. You ought to get some credit for that."

"I didn't save—"

"I get it, I get it," Theo said, waving a hand at Harry. "The humility, it's overwhelming." Ginny would have laughed if she hadn't been so moved by what the boys had said.

There was another pause as Theo pulled a wand out of his sock and magically cleaned all of the trophies in the room simultaneously before standing and looking at Harry, who stood up as well.

"Look, mate. Believe me when I say that I wouldn't step aside if you were any other bloke. But I suppose if anyone deserves a break, it's you. Just don't waste the chance you've been given."

Ginny didn't hear the last thing Theo said, because the sight of him finishing their task magically indicated that they would be leaving the room soon, and she wasn't about to be caught eavesdropping. She ran the entire way back to the common room, and then spent a sleepless night thinking about what she had overheard. By morning, she had come to a rather daunting conclusion: Now that she had heard some evidence of how Harry felt, she couldn't justify trying to be with Theo. She'd have to come clean and tell him that she intended to wait for Harry, no matter how long it was going to take.

-----------------

As it turned out, Ginny wouldn't get a chance to talk to Theo before the Seventh-Year Ball, which he would also be attending, as Gretchen Ramsey's date. One person she did see was Devon. With N.E.W.T. and O.W.L. exams out of the way, the two girls were enjoying a leisurely lunch in the Room of Requirement.

As they ate in comfortable silence, Ginny thought back on the last few days. She had watched Devon and Theo out of curiosity spurned on by what she had overheard during Theo and Harry's conversation in detention. She had never really taken the time to notice how Theo and Devon interacted with each other, and what she saw through a few days of observation surprised her.

While Devon had gradually become more comfortable in Ginny's, and even Harry's, presence, she seemed wholly at ease around Theo. Only many years of close contact and a complete understanding of each other's background and personality could produce such a relationship. They looked out for each other, able to sense when something was amiss. Each seemed to anticipate the needs of the other, whether it was providing a quill for an assignment or passing a particular dish at the dinner table.

Theo carried her books sometimes, and they walked to and from classes together. They ate nearly every meal together in the Great Hall, and there seemed to be an understanding without possessiveness that surrounded their attachment. On the rare occasions that either of them smiled, the other was usually the cause. Ginny chastised herself for never having noticed it before. They were quite as close as she was to Andy, and probably closer.

But it was Devon that had startled Ginny the most. While Devon certainly had a hold on Theo—not merely as the only Slytherin he trusted, but as an obvious source of comfort and contentment—there appeared to be an even stronger attachment in the opposite direction. While Theo had a habit of watching Devon when she wasn't immediately next to him, there was a subtle but nonetheless distinct difference in the way Devon's eyes followed Theo.

How could she have missed this?

How could she have spoken so callously of Theo and Harry and her own indecisiveness in front of Devon?

But even more curious, how could Devon have suggested Theo as a potential partner for Ginny, when Devon so obviously wished to be with him herself?

Regardless of how inexplicable Devon's actions now appeared, Ginny's discovery of them helped to make her decision not to get romantically involved with Theo that much more firm. Now she just needed to figure out how to broach the subject with Devon without sounding like a complete git. She finished the bite of strawberry shortcake that she was chewing and sat back in her chair.

"Devon," Ginny began taking a drink from her pumpkin juice as Devon wiped her face with her napkin and turned her full attention on her.

"Yes?"

"I've been doing some thinking."

"Have you."

"Actually, let me start by saying I came to a decision about something several days ago, and in the meantime I have come to another realization that sort of relates to the first thing."

"Okay," her Slytherin friend replied, clearly not sure why Ginny felt the need to impart the timeline of her thinking.

"The first thing is that I'm not interested in Theo. Or, what I mean is, I'm not interested in being his girlfriend." Devon took a drink from her goblet, so Ginny couldn't get a good look at her reaction.

"Is there a particular development that brought this on?" Devon wisely inquired.

"Yes, but it's not important. Suffice it to say, I want Harry, and nothing is ever going to change that." Devon nodded as if Ginny's answer was perfectly satisfactory.

"And have you mentioned this to Theo?"

"Not yet. I haven't had a chance to talk to him since I made my decision. We haven't had Potions since exams started."

"No offense, but I rather think he's been expecting something like this." Ginny frowned.

"I can't say that I blame him," Ginny admitted. "I feel horrible about the whole thing. He's brilliant, and I love being around him, but it's just . . . I don't . . . he's not . . ."

"He's not Harry," Devon finished for her. Ginny nodded sadly.

"I want to be his friend, but it sounds so stupid to tell someone no and then come back with 'I hope we can still be friends.' I think I would hex someone if they said that to me."

"Not to worry, I have every reason to think that Theo will save you the trouble. The two of you get along very well, he respects you, and your sense of humor is somewhat more lively than what he's used to. I doubt he'll want to give those things up, even if it means he won't be allowed to hold your hand."

"Well, that's good," Ginny replied, sounding somewhat unsure in view of the topic she was going to bring up next.

"And the second, related thing?" Devon inquired. "What is this wondrous realization you've come to since deciding against Theo?" If Devon had the slightest suspicion of what Ginny was about to say, she didn't give any indication.

"Well, it started when I took the time to notice how close you and Theo actually are. It didn't really hit me until this week, but you two are best friends, aren't you?"

"We have been friends for a very long time, and we understand each other. We are confidantes and housemates. Our families are closely tied. We have found that we can depend on each other and expect the other's loyalty despite being in a House that boasts neither quality. I don't know how you define 'best friends,' but I think I can venture to say that yes, we are. I trust Theo more than anyone else. I'd like to think he trusts me as much." Ginny bit back a smile. Devon's countenance brightened slightly when she spoke of Theo. After a thoughtful moment, Ginny leaned forward over their meal and spoke quietly.

"Devon . . . why didn't you tell me you're in love with Theo?" Devon froze for a second and then visibly swallowed, somehow managing to keep a blush from rising onto her cheeks. Artfully maintaining her composure, she took a deep breath and looked Ginny in the eye.

"Falling for your best friend is a sad cliché," she said finally.

"So?" Cliché or not, Ginny thought it was rather brilliant in this case.

"I don't approve of clichés."

"Devon!"

"Keep your voice down. I'm a year younger than he is, Ginny. But he's always treated me like an equal, and I don't want everything to change. If he finds out about this, and isn't receptive to the idea, it could ruin everything. Instead of his trusted partner and confidante, I'll be the stupid little girl who has been pining away for him all this time. I don't want that. I don't want to lose his friendship, but even more than that, I don't want to lose his respect." Ginny's heart wrenched for her friend.

"Devon, you could never be a stupid little girl," Ginny insisted earnestly. "If he can't respect you on account of this, then I don't think I can respect him." Devon smiled sadly at the encouraging words.

"I appreciate that, Ginny, but you forget that I'll still be losing my best friend. It's not like you and Harry. If something comes between the two of you, he still has Ron and Hermione, and you'll still have Andrew, Kerney, Nadine, and us. But if it didn't work out for Theo and me, we'd both lose our primary source of comfort and support. I couldn't do that to him, or to myself." Silence descended over the two girls as they both considered what Devon had said.

"So you're not going to tell him," Ginny guessed.

"No. And I hope I don't need to ask you to keep my confidence as well," Devon replied.

"Of course," Ginny confirmed. "If you don't want him to know, I won't say a word or imply otherwise."

"Thank you," Devon said, with perhaps more earnestness than Ginny had ever seen in her countenance.

"How should we keep in touch over the summer?" Ginny wondered aloud. She had already informed Devon of her summer plans with Professor Wrightman.

"It will not be anything particularly strange for my owl to be seen traveling from my house to hers. While perhaps it may not be possible often, given your situation, we will be perfectly able to communicate that way to a certain degree," Devon assured her.

"Good," Ginny replied. "I don't suppose you could manage to get an invitation to tea, could you?" Devon humored Ginny with a small smile.

"I believe it is likely that Professor Wrightman has already made plans for your amusement and access to friendly contact for the summer. It would not surprise me if Theo or I were part of those plans," she said in return. There was a pause as the two friends took each other in one last time before separating for the summer. "I don't think I need to tell you to be careful, but if I thought it would have the slightest effect on your decision-making, I would. Enjoy the ball, Ginny."

"Thanks, I will. I hope to hear from you soon. I'm glad I will have at least one trusted correspondent while I am there, even if it is not as often as I would like."

"Take care that you learn as much as you can from her, Ginny. I know you think she is very different from you, but she knows how the world works, and she could be of enormous assistance to you. I'll write to you as soon as possible." At this salutation, Ginny hugged her friend, who was only slightly uncomfortable with such a forward expression of affection.

"I'll be looking forward to it," Ginny replied. "Have good summer." And with a smile, she left the room.

----------------

Later that day, Ginny was sitting in the common room talking with a mixed group of students, which included Harry, Ron, and Hermione as well as Andy, Kerney, and Nadine. As it was raining outside, they had few options for amusement or occupation while they passed the last couple days of the term. Ginny was laughing at something Kerney had just observed about Professor Trelawney, when Nadine's sister Naomi, who was one of the seventh-year Gryffindor Prefects approached the group.

"Ginny?" she called as she came up to them, causing all their joking and conversing to cease.

"Hey, Naomi, how are you?" Ginny asked kindly in salutation.

"Er, fine, thanks," the older girl responded, making it clear that she hadn't come over to socialize. "Um, Professor Wrightman would like to see you in her office." Ginny nodded in acceptance of this information, figuring that her Defense Professor—and summer mentor—was probably summoning her to discuss details of their summer arrangement. As Ginny rose from her seat, she was accosted by Hermione.

"Term is over," Hermione stated rather obviously. "Why would Professor Wrightman want to see you in her office?" Unlike she had with Devon, Ginny had not yet informed any of her other friends and acquaintances of her plans for the summer. She had been intending to tell Harry at the ball, because she doubted she would get a chance to speak with him alone before then.

"I don't know," she lied easily, though she saw healthy skepticism in Harry's expression. But he knew her better than to ask her about it now in front of everyone. "She probably wants to tell me something about the ball."

"But Harry's going to the ball," Ron insisted. "Why doesn't she want to see him, too?"

"Because I've already been to see her," Harry interjected. Ginny smiled with approval. She doubted very much that he had been summoned to Professor Wrightman's office, and she appreciated that he was helping to cover for her even though he didn't know why. Ron seemed to accept this response, though Hermione watched the two of them suspiciously.

"I'll be back in a bit," Ginny said, and made her way out of the Portrait. Taking several secret passages and cutting through the Kitchens allowed Ginny to arrive in the Defense corridor much more quickly than usual. She knocked on the door to Professor Wrightman's office, and went inside when she heard an answer.

"Miss Weasley," Gertrude greeted her, indicating for her to take a seat in the visitor's chair. There were piles of graded and as yet ungraded exams neatly stacked all over the office.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?"

"I did. I wanted to explain the arrangements for the next few days. Certain aspects of the Seventh-Year Ball have made the details of getting you safely into my household much simpler than they otherwise would have been, although not without causing significantly more trouble elsewhere."

"Okay."

"Due to the security concerns that come with holding an event like the ball in the current circumstances, it has been decided that the event will be held at one of my summer homes at an undisclosed location." Ginny's eyebrows raised at this. How deliciously intriguing.

"Why is it at your house?" Ginny asked with evident curiosity.

"Because I volunteered it."

"That was nice of you," Ginny replied wryly.

"That was necessary," came the response.

"Since when?"

"Since Miss Chang decided to put all of the seventh-year students in danger by inviting Harry Potter to the Ball like a short-sighted twit." Ginny grinned unabashedly at her teacher's uncensored annoyance. This earned her an appraising glance from the older woman.

"Why you couldn't have simply asked him on a date that night—a date to somewhere already warded, a date where a massive group of students don't feel it necessary to leave the school grounds—is beyond me." Ginny's smile turned into a gape. It seemed that Gertrude Wrightman was feeling quite free to speak openly about her students this afternoon.

"But, no. Instead you have some infantile insecurity that prevents you from taking the lead like he so desperately needs you to." More gaping. Gertrude shook her head and sighed. "Please forgive me, that was most un-called for. I apologize for my outburst. I certainly do not blame you for any of this, but the frustration of planning all the minute details of this ball have begun to take their toll. We did not have this ridiculous event when I was in school, and I feel there is little need to keep it up given the circumstances. Quidditch I can understand, but this is pure foolishness." Ginny was rather taken aback at her professor's blunt venting of impatience.

"So, it's at one of your houses?" Ginny offered, in an attempt to steer the conversation away from embarrassing subjects. Her professor looked at her with sympathy and smiled.

"Perhaps I was a little harsh. I simply meant that, given his upbringing and life experience thus far, Harry very likely believes that his disposition toward expressing affection is worse than yours. Every person he was in a position to love has been taken from him. His mother, his father, and then Sirius. He is very unsure about what love really means, and he undoubtedly wants to keep you from joining the fate of those other three. I know you have your own reasons for needing to be sure, but you would save yourself and him a great deal of trouble if you would simply take the initiative." Then it was back to business.

"Having the ball on one of my family properties means that you can Floo to the main estate, or take a special Portkey." Ginny's eyebrows raised in interest at this. Portkeys were hard to get in England. Gertrude must have sensed her interest and explained. "The Portkey laws in France are much less strict than they are in England. Many of the oldest families have long had tailored Portkeys connecting their properties, including mine. This will make your mode of travel much safer. You will need to bring me your trunk and all of your belongings tomorrow morning so I can see them home before I join the rest of the faculty and staff in setting up for the ball. We will travel directly to my house from the ball."

"Okay," Ginny replied, still not sure what to think about a conversation that was odd, even by the usually strange standard of her encounters with this woman. "Is there anything else?"

"Not at this time. Just be sure to have your trunk here by ten o'clock in the morning." Ginny nodded her agreement.

"Thank you, Professor," Ginny replied, and left to return to the Tower.

--------------

**NOTE:** Chapter 14 will be all about the Seventh-Year Ball. I would have begun the ball in chapter 13, but I'm afraid my last semester of school is going to be putting a serious strain on my time, and I didn't want to leave you all with a very cruel cliffhanger. So everything about the ball is going in 14, which probably won't be up until the end of May. Sorry for the long wait, but that's probably how it's going to work out. Just wanted to give y'all a heads-up.


	15. Throwing Down the Gauntlet

**CHAPTER 14**

**Throwing Down the Gauntlet**

As Ginny walked back to the Tower from Professor Wrightman's office, she thought about how she could possibly get her trunk from her dormitory without raising any suspicion about her post-Ball plans. She could always borrow Harry's cloak, but that would mean explaining to him why she needed it, and even if she felt completely comfortable with doing so—even if she wasn't yet certain she could or wanted to do so—she couldn't be sure she'd get a chance to discuss it with him where Ron and Hermione couldn't hear.

Then again, she rather fancied seeing Hermione's reaction to the news that Ginny had been offered a summer internship at the Department of Mysteries. But if there was any chance she could talk to Harry alone, she didn't want to pass it up.

It was practically the middle of dinner by the time Ginny made her way through the portrait hole and into the Common Room. She was about to go upstairs and finish packing when she paused and diverted her path toward the small fire that was crackling in the fireplace. She stood before it, crossing her arms and letting the light warmth embrace her face and neck. It calmed her and allowed her mind to clear, and with everyone already gone to dinner, she felt like she would be able to come up with a suitable plan for transporting her things soon enough.

Except that her calm thoughts were quickly disrupted by the feeling of someone gripping her arm.

Only, when she turned and looked up to see who it was, no one was there. Her mind quickly jumped to the object she had been considering just a few minutes before, and she questioned aloud: "Harry?" The grip on her arm softened.

"Yeah?"

"I can't see you," she hinted. His hand left her arm.

"Oh!" he said, indicating that he had indeed forgotten that while she was perfectly visible to him, he was still invisible to her. His head, and then the rest of him came into view as he slid out of the cloak. "Sorry about that."

"Are you growing as paranoid as Moody? Wearing your invisibility cloak everywhere?" she asked with a grin.

"Only when I want to scare unsuspecting sixth years."

"Too bad I am a _suspecting_ sixth year," she pointed out.

"That did hamper my plan," he said, shrugging.

"So were you really at dinner, but just hidden under that thing?" she asked, nodding at his admittedly-awesome cloak. Merlin, the trouble she could cause with one of those.

"No. I ate earlier in the kitchens with Ron," Harry said, waving a hand. "So what were you really talking to Wrightman about?"

"What if I told you it really was about the Ball?" she half-stated, half-asked.

"I'd say you're lying."

"How could you tell? I'll have you know that I'm an excellent liar."

"Except that you wouldn't in a million years talk to Wrightman just about the Ball," Harry said, clearly proud of himself.

Ginny sighed. Oh well, at least she got to talk with him alone.

"Actually, it kind of was about the Ball," she began, causing him to start to protest. "But, I'll tell you the rest, don't get your knickers in a twist," she finished quickly, before he could say anything. He nodded in acquiescence and moved to sit on one of the couches. Ginny followed, but when she didn't start speaking right away, Harry prompted her.

"You can start explaining anytime."

"Right. Okay, first, even though I probably don't need to say it to you, don't tell anyone." Harry nodded as if it should have been assumed. "And if I tell you, can I borrow your cloak?"

"What for?" Harry looked a little wary, considering that most uses for his prized family heirloom tended not to be above-board.

"I promise that it's for something harmless."

"Nothing you do is really harmless," Harry pointed out.

"Sure it is," she said, trying to think of a mostly-harmless prank she'd pulled recently. "Well, okay. Most of the time I'm up to no good, but this time it is harmless."

"Tell me about it, then I'll decide," Harry replied.

"Well, basically it's like this," she began. "I was offered an internship for the summer, and I'm going to take it." Harry's eyebrows raised in surprise at the news, but he also looked curious.

"Where?" he asked in genuine interest. It made Ginny smile.

"At the Department of Mysteries," she replied somewhat tentatively. She knew that place held no fond memories for him. A look of surprise passed over his features before his expression returned to one of deepened curiosity.

"And Professor Wrightman offered it to you?" he asked, putting some of the pieces together. Ginny nodded. "Okay, so that's why she wanted to see you?" Ginny bit her lip.

"Yes, but it's not quite that simple," she qualified. "Ever since we were there last year, they've got all these new security measures, one of which is that any new employee at the Department of Mysteries must reside with an Unspeakable for the first six months they are there." Ginny paused to let this information sink in. She could tell when it finally did, because his brow furrowed a little, and his shoulders drooped ever so slightly.

"So you have to live with Professor Wrightman for the break," he said.

"Yes. But I'm not just doing it because I might want to work there someday," she added cryptically, immediately inciting Harry's interest.

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. One of the reasons I got offered the internship was because they want to study my connection with . . . Tom," she finished, her voice getting softer as she concluded. Harry suddenly looked serious and thoughtful.

"She thinks you're dangerous," he guessed. Ginny shrugged.

"Probably," she admitted. "At first I was angry that she might think that, but then, when I thought about it . . . well, wouldn't it help to know one way or the other?"

"I guess," he admitted after a few moments of contemplation. "She thinks your nightmares and things are connected to the diary?"

"I think so," she agreed, tentatively. "Plus—well, I'm the only living person that we know who was controlled by him. Makes me sort of unique. They could probably learn a lot."

"They could learn a lot by studying me, too."

"The-boy-who-lived? Please," she said dismissively. "You have way more important things to do that be poked and prodded by the Ministry."

"Poked and prodded?"

"Or hexed at. I'm not sure yet," Ginny said jokingly. "I'm sure Wrightman won't let it get out of hand."

"Well, that's reassuring," Harry said sardonically.

"Actually, I think it might be," she said. "It'd be nice to know if there are any lingering affects, if I might hurt you or something. I'd rather know than not."

"I'd rather you live at the Burrow while they figured it out."

"I can't. But I'll be safe at Wrightman's. She is the Defense professor."

"Because we've had so many good ones recently," he said sarcastically. She nudged his foot.

"I'm excited about this, working there and everything."

"Even with the experiments?"

She shrugged. "Yeah. Professor Wrightman said that I'll get to help with projects. And in my career meeting, McGonagall told me that she wasn't even allowed to mention the offer unless I demonstrated an interest in it first."

"McGonagall and Umbridge had a row during my meeting," Harry said, his eyes growing distant as he thought about all of this new information.

Ginny grinned. "Of course they did. Everyone thought you were evil last year, remember?"

"It seems I'm thought to be evil every couple of years," Harry said, shaking his head.

"Well, you are pretty creepy," Ginny teased.

Harry shook his head.

"So, you're going to live with Professor Wrightman for most of the summer. When do you start?"

"I'm not coming home after the Ball. That's what she wanted to talk to me about. I need the cloak because I have to get my trunk to her office by tomorrow morning, and I don't want anyone to find out." Harry had frozen at first, and then relaxed somewhat when she mentioned his invisibility cloak.

"I'll come with you," he volunteered. Ginny smiled a small smile, and it made him grow more confident as he spoke. "If Hermione and Ron ask where we're going, we'll just say it's for the Ball, and that will match our story from earlier today. We can shrink your trunk, or we can cover it with the cloak, and one of us can levitate it with wandless magic. If we use the secret passages, we won't be in the corridors for very long."

"Sometimes I forget what a bad influence you are—sneaking out after hours, starting illegal clubs, asking for clever subterfuge," Ginny said laughingly.

"You're the one that told me that if you've got enough nerve, anything's possible," Harry reminded her.

"I guess I did," she said smiling. Harry always made talking to him so easy that she now felt foolish for having ever worried about telling him her summer plans.

* * *

Ginny's eyes sprang open and she sat up quickly—too quickly, apparently, since her head immediately started pounding and she struggled to breathe, as if the wind had been knocked out of her. She gripped the side of the bed tightly as she regained her bearings enough to look around. She was in the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. A glance to her left showed her Harry—fast asleep or unconscious—in the bed next to her, while a look to the right revealed Luna's slender form, also unmoving and apparently asleep.

Ginny finally looked down at herself, clad in a thin summer nightgown, with bandages covering her left arm. She spent a few moments trying to suss out the type and extent of her injuries when it suddenly occurred to her that she couldn't feel her arm at all. _Bugger_.

And her head hurt. A _lot_. It felt as if Bludger after Bludger were repeatedly slamming into the back of her head.

It was at this point, when she finally got around to wondering what happened to put her in such a state, that the memory of the day before came rushing back to her.

As her mind was flooded with images of the Ball, she laid her aching head back down on the pillow and closed her eyes to relieve some of the pain.

It didn't help.

* * *

Ginny and Harry had planned to meet each other early in the morning in the common room, so as to escape curious and intrusive eyes, namely Hermione's. But when Ginny was halfway down the staircase to the common room, she saw that their plans had been all for naught. Hermione was waiting for her, and Harry was nowhere to be found.

"Hermione," she said out loud, with some surprise and not a little exasperation. "What are you doing up so early?"

"Waiting for you," the older girl replied. Hermione didn't appear angry or miffed, so Ginny was rather curious at what had caused her to get up so early in order to wait. Never mind how Hermione had known or suspected that Ginny would be up at such a preposterous time of the morning.

"Oh yeah?" Ginny answered in as non-committal a fashion as she could manage.

"Are you in any sort of trouble?" Hermione asked. Well, at least she wasn't going to beat around the bush. Ginny wasn't so obliging.

"Trouble?"

Hermione sighed again. "Yes. Trouble. The kind that I could help you with, if you asked me to."

The brown-haired witch looked so earnest that it almost hurt.

"No," Ginny said. "I'm not in any trouble like that."

"I've already seen Harry this morning, and he can't hide it when he's plotting something, and now you're down here too. It wasn't hard to put together."

"Maybe we're having a secret rendezvous."

"At six in the morning?" Hermione asked, as if that were the biggest hole in that story.

"Fine," Ginny said, setting down her trunk. "You caught me. The big secret is that I'm not coming home this summer." Hermione's expression quickly morphed into a furrowed brow and thoughtful countenance.

"Why not?"

"Because I have an internship at the Ministry of Magic, and I'll be attending to my living arrangements for the summer immediately after the Ball."

Hermione's eyes widened, and she looked genuinely happy for Ginny. "That's wonderful."

"Thanks."

"And Professor Wrightman has something to do with these arrangements?" Hermione guessed.

Ginny nodded. "I need to move my trunk, and Harry is letting me borrow his cloak to move it."

Hermione looked up when something occurred to her.

"In what department is your internship?" Ginny looked up and met the older girl's eyes.

"The Department of Mysteries," she replied, watching as several emotions washed over Hermione's face.

"Really?" Hermione asked, surprised. Ginny nodded. "That's a really big honor."

"I know," Ginny answered simply, not wishing to implicate Professor Wrightman just yet. She was sure Hermione would figure out that connection eventually, but it probably wouldn't help matters now.

"Congratulations, Ginny," Hermione said. Ginny's face didn't attempt to hide her surprise. "You're going to learn so much. And with all the smartest people in the Ministry. It'll be great."

Ginny's nerves betrayed her for a moment. "You think so?"

"Of course!" Hermione said. "I understand not wanting to tell everyone, but you'll have such an amazing experience."

"Thanks," Ginny replied honestly. Softened by Hermione's attempt at an olive branch, Ginny decided she could give a little back. "Are you doing anything over the holiday? Besides visiting my brother."

Hermione immediately went stiff, which Ginny thought was a little odd. Were Hermione and Ron still not open about their relationship?

"I have a few plans," Hermione said, eyes flitting around the room as if she were going over a mental checklist or two.

"I'm sure I'll be jealous of you being at the Burrow and Spinner's End," Ginny said, thinking of her brothers.

"You won't be. You won't have a free moment to even spend thinking about me," Hermione said, confident once again.

"It's a long time away from home," Ginny admitted.

"You'll be fine, Ginny," Hermione assured her. "How did your mum ever agree to it?" she added, with honest curiosity. Ginny laughed and shook her head.

"I don't know, honestly. When I first got the offer, I wouldn't even consider it because I knew she'd never let me go, but I guess someone convinced her. It was right after my career advice meeting, so maybe it was Professor McGonagall, I'm not sure." But Ginny doubted that—in fact, it had probably been Professor Wrightman. She would love to have been a fly on the wall during _that_ meeting. She paused for a moment in her own lingering disbelief. "I still kind of can't believe she's letting me do it."

"Well, it sounds incredible," Hermione replied earnestly. "I'd love to hear about it if you have time to write," she added. This surprised Ginny, or rather, the way Hermione said it surprised her—in a way that conveyed her honest curiosity at the department itself rather than any desire to intrude on Ginny's personal life. Ginny nodded in acquiescence.

"I'll write about whatever I'm allowed to share, I promise," Ginny agreed. Maybe this conversation could end up softening the tension that had long been developing between Hermione and herself. Given the battles Harry still had left to fight, it couldn't hurt to patch up their fractured relationship before they were all in more danger. Hermione smiled.

"Have you told Ron?"

"Not yet. I wasn't sure how he'd react to my working at the Ministry, or even in the Department of Mysteries, after Percy and what happened last June. Not to mention that I'm going to the Ball with one Slytherin and my internship is with another." Oops. Ginny knew there was no way Hermione wouldn't have caught the significance of the last bit. Sure enough, the older girl's eyes widened in realization almost immediately.

"Professor Wrightman is supposed to be one of the very smartest Unspeakables," Hermione said. "Working with her should be really rewarding."

"You know she was an Unspeakable?" Ginny asked, surprised. She herself hadn't known for very long.

"I've done some research about the Ministry lately," Hermione admitted. Ginny wondered whether Hermione knew that Harry's mother had been an Unspeakable before she died.

"There's more to this than just your career options, isn't there?" Hermione ventured finally. Ginny smiled at Hermione's inscrutable ability at deduction. Ginny nodded, but didn't explain, choosing instead to smile at the other girl and let them have this moment.

Suddenly it occurred to Ginny that she might need to be concerned with her brother's reaction. She could hardly believe that he would take it as well as Hermione had.

"Listen, just so you know, and you should tell Ron this . . . One of the reasons I'm doing this is that it might be able to help Harry."

Hermione visibly broke out of her previous thoughts and focused on Ginny, who stood steadily under the softened gaze of the seventeen year old. They were very different people, Hermione and Ginny, but they certainly had more than a few things in common.

Hermione took Ginny's hand in hers. "We're all going to do what we can."

"I think I should go find Harry now," Ginny said, closing the subject. Hermione smiled knowingly, as if she had already gotten more information than she had been hoping for, and didn't want to disturb the progress they had made in repairing their relationship. For a moment they shared a look of understanding for the first time in quite a while. Yes, it seemed they might learn to get along after all.

"I'm sure he's waiting impatiently in the corridor," Hermione offered.

"Thanks, Hermione. Have a good summer. Don't let them drive you crazy, and be safe," Ginny added before disappearing through the portrait.

* * *

After taking a Portkey to Professor Wrightman's main estate with Harry and the inimitable Defense professor, Ginny had been led away to change into her dress robes by a house elf named Shenny. Another house elf had led Harry to a different guest room to do the same. When she was putting on a few final touches to her make-up, Shenny reappeared to take her to Professor Wrightman.

As Shenny led her to a sitting room on the opposite end of the mansion, Ginny quickly took to the spritely little elf. Unlike Dobby, who was overly dramatic in showing his loyalty, or Winky, who was weepy and emotionally fragile, Shenny was simply content and almost cheerful in her work. As she padded ahead of Ginny, the elf appeared almost to be skipping.

As with everything else she knew about Gertrude Wrightman, Ginny thought that the little sashes Shenny and the other Wrightman house elves wore suited her persona perfectly. They were a deep cobalt blue and appeared to be made of satin, which—judging by the Wrightman crests that could be found all over the house—were so colored to emphasize their association with the Wrightman family. In addition, each elf's name was embroidered in silver thread just beneath the shoulder. The way the Wrightman family house elves carried themselves, Ginny got the sense that they were all very proud to serve such a prominent (and, Ginny could only assume, benevolent) master.

Ginny and Harry were arriving at the Ball with the hostess because of safety precautions their formidable Defense professor had stated to be necessary. For her part, Ginny needed to be keyed-in to the wards for the Wrightman estate since she would be calling it home for the remainder of the summer, while Harry was getting the usual maniac-dark-lord-is-out-to-kill-you treatment, though Gertrude made no move to key him into the wards that Ginny could see. When she thought back to the conversation where Gertrude Wrightman had explained that the whole reason for moving the Ball was because Harry was attending, Ginny smiled and shook her head. She'd keep that minor detail to herself. Poor bloke, he'd feel awful if he found out that the whole event was rearranged on his account.

Baron had been very understanding when she had informed him that she would be required to arrive separately from the other students. It probably helped that Baron held so much respect for their Slytherin Defense professor. Ginny wondered if Cho took the news quite as well.

All in all, she believed that the evening would be rather wonderful; Baron had told her a few weeks before that they had reserved a table with his sister Gretchen and Theo, who was escorting her. A third pair, both Slytherin seventh-years and friends of the Ramseys, rounded out their party. She figured Harry and Cho would probably be sitting with the Ravenclaws.

As Ginny and Harry were reunited with their teacher-turned-guardian, they each received an examination, which, coming from the head of the most powerful family in Wizarding Europe, made the two teenagers somewhat anxious. Professor Wrightman actually appeared somewhat relieved—relieved because they didn't appear as unseemly as she had expected? Ginny wondered—and gave instructions to the two house elves which were promptly carried out even as Gertrude led them toward their point of departure for the Ball.

When their special Portkeys deposited them at another of the Wrightman estates, Ginny noticed that Harry's dress robes—which were a deep navy blue and made him look rather delicious—shirt, and tie all look a bit sharper than they had before. Ginny's hair felt a little silkier to her own touch and her dress robes, the birthday present she had received from her parents, were now completely wrinkle-free and she fancied she could detect a slight glow where there previously had been a rather less-than-stunning material.

For her part, Gertrude looked beautiful. For once her hair was let down (rather more literally than figuratively, Ginny noticed) and elegantly styled. Her make-up was so different as to give her a softer countenance than Ginny was used to seeing at school, and her dress robes were magnificent. Ginny now fully appreciated the petite Defense teacher's slight frame, and she decided that Gertrude Wrightman could make a tea cozy look sophisticated, to say nothing of expensive and individually tailored robes.

A glance at Harry revealed wide eyes and a slightly gaping mouth, causing Ginny to snicker. This drew Harry's attention to her, and he immediately stopped walking. His eyes roamed down her figure and then back up again, before Ginny came to her senses and grabbed his arm, hustling them to catch up with their hostess, who kept going when Harry had halted so suddenly. As Ginny dragged him down the hall in an attempt to the close the gap between them and their guide, she noticed him visibly gulping and got the feeling he was trying very hard not to look at her.

Perhaps the house elves had done a bit more than merely enhancing the fabric of her robes and conditioning her medium-length red locks.

Thoughts of elf magic and the makeover she had received halted as they caught up to Professor Wrightman, who was waiting for them in a small alcove just off the corridor they were rushing down. Gertrude finished her instructing of yet another house elf as the two teenagers approached, and gave them another once-over to size up their appearances. A quick dash with her wand over each of them undid the minimal damage done by their hustling through the halls.

"Good enough," Wrightman said, nodding. Harry seemed a bit perplexed by this, so as Gertrude turned to address still another house elf who had suddenly appeared at her side, Ginny leaned in and explained.

"I think she means that you clean up nicely. You know, Boy-Who-Lived and all that."

"Actually, I meant that when you put in the effort, you are capable of looking the part of the head of the Potter family and a seventh daughter in seven generations."

"That title doesn't mean anything," Harry said bluntly. Gertrude watched him shrewdly for a moment, and Ginny could almost swear she saw a brief look of amusement flash over the blonde woman's countenance.

"It means that after the Blacks, the Potters were the most prominent of the Old Families with a male heir." Ginny wondered if she would ever get away from all this family and heir business. It seemed that the answer was probably no.

"With the Black line ended, the Potter bloodline has become one of the three oldest, most prestigious, and powerful in England." Ginny thought it was amusing that the professor didn't blatantly say that her own family, the Wrightmans, was another one of those families. Ginny wondered if the Caldwells were the third. They were certainly famous, at any rate. "As the head of that family, as the son of two people who were well-known, well-liked, and highly influential, you stand to inherent more than just a bank account and a famous name. I would have thought that was obvious by now." Harry looked a little taken aback by all this, and Gertrude turned to Ginny.

"And as for you, Miss Weasley, your relation to the Prewetts will grant you another advantage: the right to respect from wizards like the Notts and the Malfoys whose own allegiance to the purity of blood will force them to accept your prominence in society, even if it is against their will." Ginny wasn't sure why that was an advantage, but she was willing to go with whatever Gertrude said when it came to the subject of old families and tradition.

"At any rate, I was merely pointing out that you both should be confident in your place in this world. You have few rivals in the country, and none in this room," she indicated a set of French doors several yards farther down the corridor, "save perhaps Theodore Nott."

The two teenagers stood mutely in front of their teacher, somewhat taken aback by what she had said. Harry was the first to recover, speaking as he glanced at the Defense professor's wand.

"Aren't you going to have a go at my hair?" he asked, with curious surprise. Gertrude came shockingly close to a smile, but contained it.

"It never helped with your father's hair, and I doubt it would help yours," she said with a slight twinkle in her eye. She put her wand in a pocket of her dress robes.

"Unless you'd like me to cut it," Harry offered. Ginny frowned at this idea because she very much liked that it was unruly and just a tad too long, while the notion succeeded in drawing a small smile and a softer gaze from Gertrude.

"I would usually say you should cut it, but somehow, against my better judgment, it suited your father. And it suits you."

With a long look at Harry, she left them as she entered the party and immediately began arranging the room.

"Well," Ginny said, turning to Harry. "That was inspiring."

"That's one word for it," Harry said with a wry grin and a cocked eyebrow.

Ginny smiled and nudged him with her shoulder. "Let's go find our dates."

And so they did. Or, at least, they entered the ballroom in that particular Wrightman estate and looked around. Baron immediately caught Ginny's eye and smiled, standing from his table to make his way over to her.

"Harry." The voice came from very nearby and Ginny turned to see Cho Chang standing in front of them looking terribly impatient.

"Hi, Cho," Harry said, sounding rather like he'd just swallowed a large rock. Ginny looked over at him and her eyes narrowed as she saw the way Harry was reacting to Cho, who, it seemed, didn't need any house-elf improvements in order to make Harry appreciate the way she looked. If Ginny were feeling generous, she would admit that Cho looked rather stunning, but she wasn't and so she didn't.

"Want to go sit?" Cho asked, reaching out a hand for Harry to take. That snapped him right out of the trance he had seemed to be in as he stared at it like it was a doxy. Huh. Harry glanced over at Ginny quickly to say goodbye before walking forward to go to the table with Cho. He never took her hand. It was awkward to watch, but also rather wonderful as it let Ginny see (and revel in the fact) that Harry did not want this ball to be considered a date. Ginny couldn't help but feel like Cho was a bit eager to socialize with Harry ever since his celebrity was renewed and everyone loved him again.

"You look wonderful," said a voice to Ginny's left that she recognized before she turned. But when she smiled and pivoted to face Baron, the first coherent thought that Ginny had was, _We've __got __to have more balls_.

"And you look amazing," Ginny said, somewhat breathless and without thinking. In her third year, when she went to the Yule Ball with Neville, she had observed that all the guys looked particularly good in their dress robes, but she had been young and overwhelmed with being there in general. Plus, she hadn't really known anyone and couldn't understand the real transformation that happened when everyone was well-groomed and in formal attire.

Dress robes enhanced Baron Ramsey, who looked so very handsome normally. But in this even more formal suit of robes he looked like he belonged in a different era altogether, as if he had just stepped out of a different time in his crisp, tailored robes and polished shoes. He was clean-shaven as normal, but every single part of him looked sharp. Ginny doubted that Professor Wrightman could have found something to fix on him.

"Everything all right?" he asked, bending slightly to look more clearly at her eyes. Ginny nodded and he extended an arm for her to take, which she did. "What do you think of Professor Wrightman's home?"

"It's beautiful," Ginny said with awe and a smile. She wondered if everyone knew that this was their Defense professor's home or if Baron recognized it because he had visited. She asked him as they made their way over to the table.

"Both, actually. I have been here before for a couple of functions, but Hogwarts can't keep a secret, so I expect most people know who owns this house."

"_House_ is a bit of an understatement." Despite the fact that Ginny had fallen into the professor's Pensieve and seen a glimpse of a gigantic room that was a part of the Wrightman estates, Ginny's first impression of the Ballroom was still awe.

How could it not be? The room (which was as at least huge, if not bigger than the Great Hall) was decked out to the nines: there was a full orchestra in the back of the room near the dance floor continually playing soft classical music; small, round tables with clean white tablecloths were spread around the room with brightly colored dishes, glasses, and silverware that made the room look young; soft white light lit the room from above and all seven double doors for the room were wide open; but the thing that caught Ginny's attention was the back wall, which was made up completely of glass windows that overlooked a large formal garden lit with gold light.

Ginny was beginning to wonder what exactly was in store for her that summer.

"Was everything all right with you and Harry?" Baron was asking. Ginny looked over at him.

"Yes, it was," Ginny said. "But I'm not sure Cho was very pleased about the arrangement."

"She is probably still upset about the Quidditch loss," Baron said diplomatically, his lips twitching at the ends. Ginny smiled happily. Yep, she definitely had the best date. They arrived at their table a moment later and Ginny was happy to see Theo and Gretchen already sitting there, laughing at something, but standing to hug Ginny hello nonetheless. It seemed odd that they were acting as if they hadn't seen each other in a while since she had just been at school with them, but perhaps this was how things were done by aristocratic witches and wizards when they attended social functions.

It was slightly odd seeing Theo after the revelations she'd had about him, hearing his conversation with Harry in detention and then realizing that Devon loved him. He was still that tall, skinny, lovable friend she was insanely glad to have, but now it was also very different, knowing that he and she would never be anything more. Ginny didn't know quite how she felt about that in the long run, but for that night she was comfortable enough to sit at his table with their dates and have a good time.

Sitting with Baron and the rest of the Slytherins, Ginny noticed that Olivia Flint was at the Ball as well, glaring at her from several tables over. Her date was a Slytherin seventh-year that Ginny didn't recognize. Plus, it was obvious that Olivia was upset about the fact that Ginny was sitting with the cream of the crop from Slytherin (Ginny didn't know the other people at their table, but their names had been vaguely familiar) while she was stuck with her awkward date. Ginny felt a fleeting pleasure at knowing her date was far more handsome.

"Flint still hates you?" Gretchen asked, noticing where Ginny was looking.

"She always has. Don't know why she'd stop now," Ginny said, turning her attention back to the table.

"Sure, but ever since that fight with you, she's been out for your blood," Theo said, glancing casually at Olivia.

"I hadn't noticed an increase in hostility. Wonder what prompted it," Ginny said truthfully.

"Professor Wrightman gave her five detentions and took away fifty points for her behavior," Gretchen said. "Flint was _furious_."

Ginny was surprised. "I only lost forty points."

"Professor Wrightman is rather strict about Slytherins upholding a certain level of honor," Gretchen said simply. Ginny acknowledged inwardly that the professor probably would have given her a detention if they hadn't gotten into their screaming fight, but that still didn't make sense as to why she would have given Olivia five detentions. Five seemed excessive even by Snape's standards.

"She may not be our head of house, but she has helped change our house for the better this year, in the younger years especially," Baron said.

The room they were in had a higher ceiling, it felt like, than the Great Hall. The house-elves in their little uniforms were barely visible, though there seemed to be a dozen of them. The china and even the silverware at the Slytherin tables were decorated lightly in dark green, though there was a bit of inlaid gold that was subtle enough not to be ostentatious.

"She's really something, isn't she?" Ginny asked rhetorically, picking up her fork and resting it in her hand the way she held her wand. Dinner wouldn't be served for a short while so they had some time to chat, and quite a few people came over to say hello to them. While Cho never left her table, a different Ravenclaw did venture over with his date.

"Hey, Ginny," Roman Keselica said to Ginny's surprise, placing one hand on the back of her chair and leaning down to kiss her on the cheek. As the Ravenclaw keeper stood up straight, Theo caught Ginny's eye and smirked. She knew exactly what he was thinking: that Roman was one of the people that Devon had approved for Ginny. How embarrassing. Ginny twisted out of her seat to stand to talk to him since there were no seats available and was surprised to see Katie Bell standing beside Roman, looking rather happy.

"Hey Katie," Ginny greeted, reaching out to hug her briefly.

"No comments about consorting with the enemy?" Roman jested when the girls broke apart.

Ginny grinned. "We beat you. If we'd lost, it would've been a whole different story."

"If we'd lost, I wouldn't have said yes," Katie said teasingly, making Ginny laugh because she knew that Katie would never hold a grudge against someone like that. Though, it _was _Quidditch.

"Well, I'm sure the Ravenclaws at your table are being terribly gracious about the whole thing," Ginny said. A look crossed Roman's face at that and Katie's smile became forced. Ginny scowled and began to think she knew why they'd decided to roam the room.

"We're at the table with Harry and Cho, so Harry can fend them off with me," Katie said, attempting to lighten the conversation. Ginny peeked over her shoulder at their table and saw Cho petting Harry's arm and then him reaching for a glass across the table and avoiding her hand in the process. None of the other people at the table played Quidditch, but they were all Ravenclaws, including Roman's sister, and Ginny could see how they wouldn't take too kindly to the Gryffindor Quidditch captain and a senior Chaser sitting among them.

"We're just going around to visit with a few of my friends," Katie said.

"I saw wanted to stop by to say goodbye," Roman said easily. It hit Ginny again that she would not be having a normal summer. Things were going to be very different this year, even by recent standards. Then she realized that this was probably the last she would see of Katie for quite some time; they would never have ridiculously grueling practices together anymore; Ginny would be learning to play with a whole new player next season. She would be the senior Chaser on the team. It was a sad sort of revelation.

Ginny hugged them again, and said her goodbyes somewhat more sadly than she would have liked. Baron shook Roman's hand and kissed Katie on the cheek.

"That's a good pair," Gretchen said after they'd left.

Ginny slid back into her seat. "Why do you say that?"

"She's probably the only person in the world that won't want to kill his sister immediately," Theo explained. Ginny laughed and Gretchen looked pleased. Baron settled into his seat with a look of amusement. "They might even last a few months as a couple, what with Bell being too nice to hate his family for a least a month."

Ginny thought briefly of Katie's fling with her brother.

Gretchen took a sip from her pink glass and then took a moment to look at it cradled in her hand. "It is odd being here with so much color."

Baron nodded, but at Ginny's curious look he explained, "Professor Wrightman holds her annual Black and White Ball here on the winter solstice."

"It's a rather boring affair," Theo said, resting his elbow on the table. "Very stuffy and very full of self-important people."

"So a lot of people like you then?" Ginny teased.

Theo raised a single eyebrow, but Gretchen was the one who responded, laughingly saying, "Theodore is disenchanted with the affair because he's had to attend it since he was seven."

"You must have gone as often, and _you _aren't terribly weary of it like him," Ginny said jokingly.

Gretchen shook her head and was about to say something when her face tightened. She caught it so quickly that Ginny might not have noticed if she hadn't known her so well. "This'll only be the second year we've gone."

"Our parents normally attended for the family, but we came last year," Baron said. There was a long pause after his statement as Ginny realized that the last Black and White Ball must have fallen close to the time when the Ramsey parents were killed. She felt horrible for having said anything.

They all felt the tension, but Theo broke it, saying, "Last year one of my cousins on my father's side tried to attack me with her mouth. Gretchen saved me with a waltz and for that I owe her my life."

"I don't know about your life, but I'll accept a very expensive birthday gift," Gretchen said, her voice light though she was obviously still pained by thoughts of her parents.

"So the colors," Ginny said, picking up her spoon, "you think Professor Wrightman picked them out?"

"She supplied them, I'm sure," Gretchen said, running her fingers over her silverware but not picking any of it up.

"I would have thought Hogwarts would take care of things like that," Ginny said. It seemed rude to impose on a woman who had already donated the use of her entire house

"Even if this is just a school function, it is being held in her home, and Professor Wrightman rightly feels responsible for the execution of the event," Baron said. "It wouldn't do for this Ball to be any less spectacular than any other she's held here."

"Then I expect dinner should be delicious," Ginny said, smiling.

Baron nodded. "She _is_ known for having the best of everything."

Somehow, that didn't surprise Ginny.

* * *

Ginny's recollected anticipation of dinner was interrupted by a muffled voice, which became louder and clearer as her vision of the ballroom faded into the stark whiteness of the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts. The voice became recognizable as Madam Pomfrey's, and Ginny opened her eyes, wondering when her recollection had converted to a dream.

"Miss Weasley, can you sit up?" Madam Pomfrey asked, thankfully skipping the tearful, blubbering melodrama that would have overtaken Molly Weasley in the same situation.

"I think so," Ginny replied, attempting to use her good arm to prop herself up. She was marginally successful and, with Pomfrey's help, was able to slump forward into a hunched sitting position.

"Just drink this and you can go right back to sleep," Pomfrey said, holding out a vile for her to take. Ginny had never heard the school healer speak this softly before, and it worried her. She glanced to her left and right, but saw Harry and Luna lying in their beds, just as they were when she'd woken up before. As she turned back to her caregiver, Ginny was struck with a sudden sort of clarity.

"How long have we been here?" she asked. Madam Pomfrey cleared her throat.

"Two days," she responded briskly, offering the vial again. Ginny momentarily put off her alarm at being out of it for so long in favor basking in the comfort of the familiar tone that meant Pomfrey was all-business in the infirmary.

"How did we get here?" she asked, balancing on her injured arm, which she still could not feel, and taking the potion with the other.

"Professor Wrightman brought you," Madam Pomfrey replied in an odd tone. "You're safe. Now drink up."

And with that, she did, barely noticing the rather foul taste of the elixir before she was overtaken by slumber and more images of the Ball.

She never noticed her weary Defense professor sitting stoically in a chair next to Harry's bed.

* * *

Baron and Ginny danced after dinner was served, danced as the sun set and cast pink and orange light over the garden and through the wall of windows and onto their formalwear. It was a quiet dance and the musicians seemed to drag out the low notes and soften the high ones.

"May I cut in?"

Ginny and Baron both looked over to identify the speaker. It was a girl that Ginny vaguely recognized as a seventh-year Slytherin—apparently a rather pushy seventh-year Slytherin—who sat at the same table with Olivia Flint. The song wasn't over, but they had stopped dancing, and Ginny decided that the only polite thing to do would be to let the girl dance with Baron

"Maybe another time," Baron said, hand on Ginny's elbow. She looked over at him and saw the steady way he looked at the girl, whose face seemed to be frozen in place as she walked away.

"I think you just made yourself an enemy," Ginny whispered.

"I can accept that," Baron said, looking down at her with his steady expression. "She's been in classes with me for seven years now, and I'll be none the worse for having avoided more time spent in her company."

"You know, I'm beginning to fear the things you say behind my back," Ginny joked. "Are you so glad to have avoided me, too?"

The lights in the room began to gently spin. "No. I normally enjoy the time I spend with you."

"Normally?" Ginny repeated, smiling fully now. "So you don't _always _enjoy me?"

"Do you enjoy every moment spent with me?" he asked rather frankly.

Ginny blinked at him. "Yes, I think I do."

Baron looked a bit shocked, but before he could say anything about her comment, Gretchen was standing beside them saying, "I'm cutting in now."

Ginny grinned, forgetting Baron's odd question for the moment. "Another pushy seventh-year Slytherin. Feel free to ignore this one as well."

"Another? Has Helen been bothering you again?" Gretchen twisted her head until she spotted the girl who had tried to cut into Ginny's dance with Baron. The girl seemed to shrink under Gretchen's glare, but when the Ramsey twin turned back to Ginny, she saw nothing intimidating in her gaze. She was like a quick-change artist. "Don't worry, I'm not just stealing your dancing partner, I am also providing one." She nodded her head toward Theo, who stood quietly with his back straight and his ever-present smirk.

"As long as you brought me a replacement, I suppose I can't object," Ginny said, sighing as if she were disappointed. They switched dancing partners quickly and Ginny immediately felt the differences between dancing with Baron and Theo. Baron made all of the correct steps, never stepped on her feet or made her feel like she didn't know what she was doing, and always felt like he was in control. But Theo, while he led her through the same dance, managed to make it feel like he was responding to her, like he might make a mistake at any time, though he never actually did.

"You've been avoiding me," Theo said suddenly.

Ginny looked up at him quickly. "No, I haven't."

"Oh really?" he asked, a half smirk on his face. Ginny looked away.

"Okay. Sort of," she said somewhat quietly. Theo nodded in confirmation.

"So, it's Harry then?" Ginny looked up at him, though she shouldn't have been surprised at his conclusion.

"I think it always was," she conceded.

"But you only came to this mind-blowing conclusion recently," Theo observed wryly.

Ginny took a breath. "I overheard you talking to Harry in detention."

"You eavesdropped, you mean," Theo said, shocking Ginny by not looking embarrassed in the least when he must have realized that she'd heard him say how much he cared about her and how much he knew Harry cared, too.

"You could say that."

"And I just did," Theo replied not unkindly, "but what I'd really like to know is what precisely changed your feelings."

Ginny thought about Devon. "I can't tell you."

"But?"

"But I'd like to stay friends.'

"You'd like to stay friends, only you won't tell me why you changed your mind?" Theo clarified, letting her know that he was determined to get some kind of answer to his question eventually.

"Yep," Ginny said, playfully. Theo shook his head and smirked.

"My dance partner has been taken from me," Gretchen said, suddenly appearing beside them again. They stopped moving and looked around to try to spot the girl who had managed to take Baron from his sister. When Ginny's eyes landed on Luna Lovegood and Baron stepping in time together on the other side of the dance floor, she nearly laughed aloud.

"That is one pair I never imagined dancing together," she said.

"Nor I, but apparently dancing with a single person for more than ten minutes can result in extreme Julifritus," Gretchen said gravely, the sides of her mouth twitching and her eyes sparkling with delight.

"Naturally," Theo muttered with a sly smile. The three were still watching the girl with glowing blonde hair chatter away at the most refined student in the room. They seemed to float across the dance floor.

"So, I'm back to reclaim my partner," Gretchen said forcefully.

Ginny shook her head. "You can't renege on a deal just because you've lost your half."

"Of course I can," Gretchen said.

"Actually, I was looking forward to sitting a few dances out," Theo said. After a bit more talking the three of them left the dance floor, though when Theo left to return to the table, Gretchen grabbed Ginny's hand to halt her movements.

"What did you just do?" Gretchen asked, watching Theo walk away.

Ginny wondered if Gretchen would hate her for this. "I told him I'd like to stay friends."

Gretchen looked sharply at Ginny. "Why?"

Knowing she couldn't reveal Devon's secret, Ginny tried to shrug and said, "A lot of reasons."

"Are you sure it isn't just one reason?" Gretchen's fierce eyes never left Ginny's. "One _person_, perhaps?"

Ginny froze. Was Gretchen talking about Harry or Devon? She had a feeling it was the latter. "No?"

"I've never had my suspicions confirmed, but I've had a feeling about a pair of best friends for a while now," Gretchen hinted.

Ginny's heart was beating quickly in her chest now. Gretchen knew, didn't she? Ginny couldn't know for certain and she certainly couldn't say anything to confirm the older girl's suspicions, but oh, how she wanted to.

"I can't talk about this."

"Yes, you can," Gretchen said sternly. "Who'd you hear it from?"

"No one. There's nothing to say," Ginny tried.

"She loves him, doesn't she?"

"If I say no, will you stop asking?"

"Would you be lying?"

"I'm thirsty." Ginny turned to walk away, but Gretchen cut her off.

"I figured she would have told him by now, but—"

"Pardon, but Raby is needing to speak to Miss Wheezy." Both girls stopped talking and looked down to see a little house-elf standing between them.

"Me?" Ginny repeated. Why could no house-elf properly pronounce her family's name? The creature was wearing his little blue sash, with the carefully embroidered name _Raby_ proudly shown.

"Yes, Miss." The large elf eyes looked at Ginny, then Gretchen, who took her cue and left the pair, though not without insisting that she and Ginny would be resuming their discussion soon. Ginny almost grimaced at the thought of dodging Gretchen Ramsey for the rest of the night in order to avoid that conversation.

"My mistress is wanting to speak to you," the elf squeaked.

"Oh, well, why didn't you say so?" Ginny replied good-naturedly.

The elf looked stricken, but also defensive as he said, "Mistress is telling Raby to tell Miss Wheezy alone."

"That's just ridiculous," Ginny muttered, following the house-elf out of the main ballroom and into one of the adjoining rooms. Gretchen could have heard the fact that Ginny needed to speak with the Defense professor without issue, couldn't she?

"Ginevra," her teacher addressed her as the door into the ballroom closed behind her.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Ginny greeted, ready to launch into praise for the event. But Gertrude began speaking again directly.

"I need you to do something for me," the older woman began. Ginny nodded affirmatively and Gertrude continued. "I think that something is interfering with the wards to the estate." Ginny's heart stopped and she inadvertently held her breath. _Well, it wouldn't be the end of term without another run in with Death Eaters, would it?_ she thought grimly and sighed.

"Voldemort," Ginny guessed out loud.

"More likely it's a reaction to the mass Portkeying," her teacher replied.

"Alright," Ginny said.

An odd feeling jolted Ginny.

Wrightman glanced at the door to the ballroom. "What you just felt is the reverberation of someone or something's attempt to break through the wards that you were keyed to. If the wards are breached, you will know it immediately. Harry has been keyed to my wards since he was born, so he would feel it, too."

Ginny was more than a little shocked to hear that, but now was not the time to reminisce about the past.

"The Hogwarts guards are patrolling the edge of the estate," Wrightman said, "and I need to talk to Professor Flitwick about what's happening, but the wards will hold."

"You're sure?"

"They've withstood worse," Wrightman said rather cryptically.

"So what do you need me to do?"

"I need you to watch the students for any strange activity. My house-elves are also watching, but you would notice any odd wand movements before they would," Wrightman said. "If you notice anything out of the ordinary, have Pim find me immediately."

"I can do that," Ginny said intently, turning to re-enter the ballroom. But first she stopped and turned back. "Are you sure we shouldn't just leave?"

"The Portkeys aren't ready for reactivation, and the wards will hold," Wrightman said, sweeping grandly out of the entrance. And with that Ginny turned back toward the dance.

As she crossed the room she noticed Harry watching her in concern, and she smiled to placate his worry. She decided not to say anything to him until she knew for certain that something was going on.

Easing smoothly back into conversation with her friends, Ginny occasionally scanned the room. Everyone seemed to be normal: fighting with boyfriends, dancing, eating, laughing, and saying sad goodbyes. The only anomaly was Draco Malfoy, who was sitting at the table directly next to Ginny. He looked alert and engaging when he spoke with others at his table, but he seemed to brace himself every so often as if he were forcing himself not to wince in pain. Several minutes later his back looked rather stiff, and Draco appeared to be very tense, though still his face showed little to no alteration.

Finally, when Ginny had been at her table for almost twenty minutes, she noticed that when her eyes sought out Draco's back and shoulders, the image blurred a little. It was very odd, as if she were looking at him through glasses that were much too strong for her.

As Ginny walked back in the general direction of the Slytherin tables, she noticed Harry at one of the buffets, and he immediately began to make his way toward her.

"Ginny, what's going o—" he asked, anxiously at first, then cutting himself off. She turned to follow his gaze, and saw the eldest Ryan sister walking towards them with her date.

Now Cho Chang may have been voted the hottest girl in school by a league of blokes, but it was Naomi Ryan who made people look twice as she walked past in her form-fitting, shorter-than-normal dress robes. Harry, who was still standing beside Ginny, had an odd look in his eye for a moment as he watched Naomi come closer.

"Is that your friend Nadine's sister?" Harry asked slowly.

Ginny turned to Harry, curious about his odd tone. "Yeah, why?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't know. She seems familiar."

"Well, she _is_ in Gryffindor," Ginny said. Harry continued to look thoughtful as Naomi and her date, Derek Ferguson, walked toward them. They were another mismatched pair at first glance, a lot like Olivia Flint and her not-so-attractive escort. Naomi was beautiful in a classic way and Derek was, frankly, awkward. Very awkward. He was tall, gangly, and had large eyes, and Ginny wasn't sure if she had ever spoken to him, despite him being in Gryffindor.

"Hey, Naomi," Ginny said as the girl walked past.

"Hey, Ginny," Naomi said, inclining her head towards Ginny as she stopped to talk. "Having a good time?"

Ginny smiled and looked over at Baron, who was sitting with Theo and his sister. "Yeah, I am. What about you?"

"Oh, yes, I'm having a wonderful time," she said honestly. Her eyes widened. "Sorry, do you know Derek?" she said, gesturing to her date.

Ginny shook her head and stuck out a hand. "I don't think so. Hi, I'm Ginny."

Derek took her hand with an easy smile. "I know. You're on the Quidditch team. It's hard not to know all of you guys." Ginny's smile widened.

"Then you probably know Harry, too?" She nodded in Harry's direction as she made to introduce them.

"Harry?" Derek feigned ignorance. "No, sorry, I'm drawing a blank."

Ginny glanced over at Harry to see how he was taking the teasing, but he was still glancing at Naomi every chance he could as if he was trying to place her is his memory.

"Apparently I'm the one who's easy to ignore," Derek said with a joking sigh. Harry blinked and looked over at him.

"Sorry, no, hello," he muttered. "I'm Harry."

"I know," Derek said easily, his smile still in place as he reached out a hand to shake Harry's.

"You're Naomi Ryan?" Harry asked, still watching her intensely.

"Hello, Harry," she said, smiling her soft smile.

"I know you," Harry said, which seemed very out of character.

Naomi nodded. "I think we met in a bookshop once."

"Maybe."

The remainder of the encounter consisted of Harry behaving oddly and Ginny politely chatting with Naomi, concluding with several entreaties on Ginny's part for Naomi to instruct Nadine and Andy to write her constantly over the summer.

Interestingly enough, the next stop Naomi and Derek made was at Ginny's own table, where they chatted happily with Baron, Gretchen, and Theo. Ginny didn't realize that she had been staring when she felt Harry's eyes on her.

"Baron Ramsey . . . he's . . ." Harry stopped himself and looked decidedly sullen. "He's a good sort," he concluded in a perfunctory tone.

Ginny nodded, looking over at the terribly proper and imposing figure of Baron Ramsey.

"He certainly is," she agreed—though not in the way that Harry interpreted it. And there it was. Just recently she had come to the conclusion that Theo Nott was meant only to be her very good friend. Now, it seemed, Baron Ramsey was to have the same fate.

Great as Baron was—and he truly was wonderful—Ginny could not see herself being with him. Not for long. Certainly not forever.

He was terribly handsome, strong, fierce, and very nearly perfect, but when she tried to imagine him sitting around her family table at Christmas, there was a decidedly uncomfortable feeling, like choosing Baron would make Ginny not fit in. Realizing that the one person she could imagine—had in fact seen—at her dinner table was standing beside her, Ginny turned to Harry impulsively and asked, "Harry, would you like to—"

But she never got to ask him to dance, as something unseen struck her hard enough to make her break off her question.

"Um," Ginny muttered, trying to get her bearings. She felt like she'd been _Obliviated_ or something.

"Are you all right?" Harry asked, touching her elbow as if he was ready to lend her his support.

Ginny opened her mouth to say yes, but the broken feeling made her shake her head. "Something's really wrong."

Harry looked around the room briefly, his slightly concerned face darkening with alarm. "I was coming over to say the same thing."

And as Ginny scolded herself for becoming distracted in her errand, she straightened herself and became resolute. Its effect was apparent on her countenance and caused Harry to look at her in surprise.

"Did you feel that, too?" she asked him.

"Yeah, what was that?"

"It's the wards," she said quietly. "Someone's must be trying to break through them."

As always, Harry took all this in without ceremony or making a scene, but Ginny could tell he was angry to be the cause of the danger.

"Harry, we'll handle it," Ginny insisted quietly as she felt the wards tear and shift.

She and Harry both hunched over, hands on knees, feeling like the wind had been knocked out of them. As they panted and recovered, Harry spoke, chilling Ginny's insides.

"He can't be defeated yet," he said quietly.

"You don't know that," she responded forcefully, though more out of determined hope than actual confidence.

Their conversation was cut off suddenly as Draco Malfoy cried out and fell to his knees. Not that anyone noticed. Well, they looked over because of his exclamation, but the great shimmering behind him was rather more terrifying as it grew bigger and bigger, until what looked like a black hole, or a tear in the atmosphere had simply appeared where he had been standing.

The doors and windows immediately slammed shut all around the ballroom, glowing briefly silver to show some sort of spell had sealed them. Ginny thought this was probably not a good thing. All the other Hogwarts professors and Order members had been strangely out of the room, save for Gertrude Wrightman. And now they couldn't get back inside to help.

"Back against the wall, all of you!" Gertrude commanded, shocking all of the students into looking at her. In that odd moment, her pale blue eyes appeared so powerful that most obeyed without question. She was clad in only the first layer of her dress robes, having discarded the outer layer. Ginny quickly copied her as Ginny and Harry, along with a handful of others, made to separate themselves from the mass.

Their attention was attracted back to the portal as a shiny shoe—followed by a leg—came through the black opening, followed further by the body of a man wearing a white mask and black robes. He took a moment to look proudly around the room and said, "So much for the great Lily Potter's wards."

Harry sent the curse before the Death Eater even finished pronouncing his mother's name. As happened in the best of his moments, he acted on instinct.

Unfortunately, the Death Eater, who by his voice Ginny and Harry had recognized immediately as Lucius Malfoy, dodged and two other Death Eaters stepped through. Ginny sent her own curses and both students began racing forward to attack these intruders, to shove them back through that portal, and in an attempt to stop any more from arriving. They noticed no one else, but they were observant enough to see that the two other Death Eaters who arrived—Bellatrix Lestrange and a tall, dark-haired man whose body language Ginny found to be somewhat familiar—were doing strange things as they blocked the attacks.

While Bellatrix exchanged hexes with an angry Gertrude Wrightman, the man threw a bottle on the ground, breaking it and thus releasing some kind of potion into the room. The effects were immediate: there was suddenly a shimmering wall between all of the students and the Death Eaters, though the students had been quarantined into two main groups—the Slytherins and Ravenclaws on one side of the ball room, the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs on another side. Actually, it was three groups, counting Harry and Ginny, who had both been crossing the room when the attack began, and who were therefore secluded from their dates and the other students, just as they had been instructed.

But a glance around her made Ginny realize that Luna had been approaching them from the Ravenclaw area when the Death Eaters arrived and was now enclosed in the shimmering cage with them.

The different walls of light that had sprung up from the potion absorbed the spells that students shot at them and blasted one Ravenclaw student who had been so unwise as to touch it, back into the wall, where he slumped to the ground.

When Ginny turned to watch him, she saw Baron Ramsey standing up beside his sister and Theo. All three of them looked murderous, but when Baron saw Ginny, his eyes flitted to Harry, and he looked back at her with an almost imperceptible nod before turning back with his sister to watch what was unfolding on the other side of the shimmering barrier.

Gertrude was also casting spells at the shield to no effect. If Baron looked murderous, it was nothing next to how their Defense professor looked at that moment.

"You have invaded my home, broken my wards, and trampled on a pact that was maintained between our families for three hundred years, Lucius." Gertrude's words were clipped, barely restraining the disdain that was written so plainly on her countenance.

"And for that I apologize," the senior Malfoy answered carefully, obviously concerned with the reaction of the hostess. Bellatrix glanced toward Draco, who was now lying face-down on the floor; the portal was creeping out of his back as if it originated there.

"Apology not accepted," Gertrude said almost wryly, feeling along the wall of light with her hand. Sparks ignited but she did not appear harmed. Ginny wondered why. "Leave my home."

"I have to take down this ward," Harry muttered to himself, not even really seeming to listen to the conversation between adults as he looked at it. "I have to close that thing before more of them come."

There were already half-a-dozen Death Eaters in the room, fanning themselves out.

"How are you planning to do that?" Ginny asked, angry, scared, hating that she could do nothing but watch and listen.

"We aren't here to harm you," Lucius was saying, stepping closer to where Gertrude stood by a part of the wall between where Ginny, Harry, and Luna were sequestered and where the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs were penned in.

"You are here to harm my guests," Gertrude threw back adamantly. "An offense that I will _never_ forget."

"My Lord sends his apologies," Lucius added with his usual arrogance. "We are under strict instruction not to harm you."

"So this isn't just another horrid mistake like the Ramseys?" Gertrude demanded .

Lucius visibly flinched, and Ginny couldn't help looking over at Baron again. He was obviously on edge, and Gretchen was practically shaking.

Harry was muttering again. "The whole ward is layered. Tied into that Death Eater who made it with blood magic."

"It'll take ages to dismantle," Ginny said, but Harry was already working on it. Ginny wished Hermione were here. This was exactly the sort of thing the other girl did best: figuring out puzzles.

"If he is willing to enter my home," Gertrude wondered aloud, "is Malfoy Manor secure?" The black portal was shutting, sucking itself back into Draco Malfoy's back where he lay breathing raggedly on the ground. There were ten Death Eaters in all.

"We're almost ready, sir," a Death Eater told Lucius.

"You're safe where you are," the pale, blonde aristocrat told Gertrude.

"Like hell, I am," she corrected, turning her head slightly. "Pim!"

A house-elf that Ginny recognized as the one who had led Harry away to change his clothes earlier popped into the space directly in front of her. Ginny lifted her head to stare instead of just listen as Gertrude demanded, "Take down the wards and banish these men."

"Yes, Mistress," the elf piped before disappearing.

"You wouldn't dare command elf magic on us!" Bellatrix exclaimed, wild eyes swinging around to look at the Wrightman matriarch, whose own eyes dominated the staring match.

"You broke the treaty," Gertrude announced, still angry enough to spit. "Tell your Dark Lord that he has lost his audience with the Old Families. With this intrusion and the murder of the Ramseys, you've guaranteed our collective animosity."

"He means no harm to you!" Lucius shouted, obviously angry—and not a little surprised—at this turn of events. Ginny figured that his instructions were probably not to refrain from harming Wrightman, but rather to carry out their mission without altering what they believed to be her neutrality. Having failed that, he was certainly in for a great deal of pain once his master became aware of it.

"Three-hundred years, Malfoy!" Gertrude exclaimed, altering her course of anger. "The Old Families have remained stable for three centuries, and you tossed it away!"

Harry kept working on the wards but Ginny found herself unable to turn away from the heated exchange between the adults. Pim appeared in front of Gertrude again, but this time, Bellatrix tried to attack the elf, who was protected by the shield and just kept addressing her master. Apparently the wards blocked _all_ spells from any direction. Interesting.

"Door wards takes time, Mistress." The elf sounded close to tears at having to report the delay. "And we is unable to banish guests."

"Why?" Gertrude snapped.

"We used the boy," the tall, aloof Death Eater answered, motioning toward Draco who was still unconscious on the ground. "We didn't break in."

Wrightman's eyes flashed again, but she addressed her elf. "What about the shield in front of me? Can you lower it?"

"You don't want to do that, Gertrude," Lucius interrupted, his voice softening in what may have been his attempt at calming and placating Wrightman, but only succeeded in sounding patronizing to Ginny. She doubted Wrightman would hear it any differently "We were told not to hurt you. We're only here for Harry Potter. We can pull him through the wards."

"My guest, you mean," Wrightman snapped, avoiding indicating any special status that Harry might possess in her concern.

Without thinking, Ginny called out, "Professor," trying to show Wrightman that they were all ready for the shield to come down, but her cry did not distract the Defense professor so much as it drew the attention of Lucius Malfoy. _Stupid_, Ginny thought to herself. Her own impulses didn't seem to be as good as Harry's.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't the little diary girl," he said mockingly. Harry stiffened next to her and finally looked up from his work. Luna took the opportunity to stand at her other side, as Malfoy continued. Ginny just stared back at the head of the Malfoy family, feeling as her anger—and her magic—swirled stormily inside her.

"Kill any students lately?" he heckled. "Befriend any new dark wizards?" His eyes lit up when he noticed Harry standing beside her. "Or have you been busy trying to pleasure your boyfriend instead?"

Ginny's smirk belied the torrents and storms of magic that were raging inside her. "Is that really the best you can do, Lucius?" Ginny taunted back without hesitation. She could sense Harry's surprise at her brashness. "What, did blondie lose his edge in Azkaban?"

Lucius grew visibly angry as he waved a hand to indicate the area where Ginny, Harry, and Luna were encapsulated.

"Nott, bring them to me. Both of them," he specified, indicating Harry and Ginny.

_Nott! _Ginny's head swung around to look at Theo in recognition and horror for what he must be feeling, and her former Potions partner looked like he'd just had a sudden, staggering epiphany. He was already racing across his warded section of the room, sprinting right towards them even as the tall Death Eater that had thrown the potion walked forward, and moved to reach through the ward to them, but stopping abruptly when Theo came to a halt in front of him. They stood alike, Ginny noted vaguely.

"This doesn't concern you," the elder Nott was saying.

"You made it concern me when you involved my school," Theo said unwaveringly, panting slightly from his sprint across the room, and reaching out his arm so that his hand came into contact with the shield. This time it sparked green, but as with Gertrude, it didn't throw Theo back as it had the Ravenclaw.

"You wouldn't dare," snarled Theo's father, taking another step forward. He was still a couple of meters away.

"Let's test that theory, shall we, _Father_?" Theo snarked, turning to shout at his classmates. "Get ready to block their spells!"

"Theodore, they need not be hurt," Nott said sharply. Yeah, it was clearly becoming apparent that Death Eaters couldn't do "placating" without patronizing.

"Yes, your mate Lucius has already said. No one gets hurt if we give hand over Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley," Theo spit out as he turned back around to face his father. "Doesn't seem quite right to hand them over after all the times they've managed to get the best of you lot. Why not give the rest of us a chance? See if you've really trained me up to be the survivor you always wanted."

Ginny saw Harry's shock out of the corner of her eye, but she was watching Theo as he put his other hand up to the ward. His father hastened to do likewise, but it was too late. The shield collapsed, Theo falling with it as the entire thing seemed to pour into his hands. Bloody magic, Ginny thought. And then, after a strange moment of hesitation, the spells started firing.

"Don't touch the students unless they fire first!" Lucius yelled, somehow banishing all those near him to an unknown location outside of the ballroom. Baron and Gretchen were among the first to go, followed quickly by the rest of the Slytherins, most of the Ravenclaws and quite a few of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. Theo's father grabbed him angrily and shoved a Portkey in his hand before he could wrench himself away, sending him quickly out of sight with a look of horror (and not a little fury) on his face.

_These numbers don't look good_, Ginny thought distractedly as she dodged spells and sent her own in return. The Death Eaters were noticeably getting every student out of the room except for her and Harry, and Luna, who was doggedly covering Ginny's back in the chaos of hexes.

"The boy!" shrieked Bellatrix when only the three teenagers and their teacher remained with the Death Eaters. "Get the boy!" A scan of the room as she and her two friends skirted and dodged around tables and decorations told her that three Death Eaters were dead or incapacitated. Seven on four. Not the greatest odds, even with an Unspeakable and the Boy-Who-Lived on your side.

"Nott, Avery, and Flint, sequester Gertrude. Do _not _harm her!" Lucius yelled, motioning to where the Defense professor had just taken out two more Death Eaters and disappeared behind a rather convenient grand piano that had been uprooted by the melee. Now three more were racing toward her and even Ginny didn't think she could handle that many on her own.

But at least their odds were closer to even. Five on four. They could swing that, she thought as she and Harry sent cutting and blasting curses toward Gertrude's attackers. Luna continued to cover them as they did, and Ginny flinched as one of the pursuers who was not Theo's father was struck by one of her cutting hexes followed immediately by Harry's _Impedimenta_, which had the effect of blowing off the body part where the cut sliced him—in his case, his hip, and in so doing, his entire leg.

_Four on four, now_, Ginny thought to herself, turning to help Luna fend off Bellatrix and Lucius, before Lucius left to replace the incapacitated Death Eater in pursuit of Gertrude.

Gertrude was able to move around as long as she remained hidden by upturned furniture and decorations, and was getting in a few hits now and then, but she was up against three grown men, two of which were very powerful wizards.

And just as they began to close in on her, the room was filled with the deafening sound of the wards to the estate finally collapsing. It was like wrenching steel and a million elastic bands snapping around them, but so loud—and personal, because of their inclusion in the wards—that they could feel the vibrations in their chests and the wrenching in their bones.

More importantly, however, right as the noise began to dissipate, house-elves immediately began pouring into the room. There must have been close to a hundred of them, once all was said and done, and most of them rushed to rescue their mistress, who was dodging and defending herself rather formidably despite being outnumbered three to one. _Unspeakable, indeed_.

Once Nott had been severely stunned and Avery had apparently been killed, Gertrude shouted instructions at the elves, while she dueled with Malfoy. Many of the elves disappeared from the room on what Ginny figured were Gertrude's instructions to find the other students and get them to safety.

Suddenly a loud _BOOM_ went up, causing everyone, even the two dueling Slytherins, to stop in their tracks and turn to see what was causing it. Bellatrix had cast some type of ejection spell, presumably one involving very dark magic, since vivid green walls of eerie, shimmering light had erected themselves between the wizards and the elves, and the elves grew agitated when they found that the walls could not be penetrated.

Gertrude's gaze shifted briefly to the teenagers and then quickly back to her opponent, but not quickly enough. Lucius' booming intonation of a summoning spell caught Gertrude off-guard—costing her her wand—and he quickly strung her upside down in the air. In the back of her mind Ginny noted with amusement that at some point behind that overturned piano, Gertrude had charmed her dress into shorts and a sensible shirt.

Ginny immediately did the same, and Luna followed suit, only to be hit and knocked out by a curse that Harry would have recognized as the one that had struck Hermione at the Department of Mysteries the year before.


	16. The Beat Goes On

**Chapter 15 - The Beat Goes On**

Ginny raced over to check on Luna, kneeling beside her and feeling the beginnings of real hysteria start to form as she saw the too-familiar curse slashed across her friend's stomach. Oh Merlin, it was the same curse that had hit Hermione the year before. The same curse. The one that had put her in the hospital for forever. They needed to get her out of there.

"Ginny!" Harry called out, banishing a table at Lucius Malfoy. The Death Eater blew it apart, causing splinters to fly at him. He beckoned for Bellatrix to take control of Wrightman as he went and confronted the teen.

Her friends were fighting or lying on the ground or banished. The stain glass window looking over the formal garden had pieces of a human body stuck to it. Ginny and Harry had done that. They had killed a man. They had—it was too much. The magic inside Ginny began to grow, to reach out, to try to protect her.

"Ginny!" Harry called again. He was fighting still. Wrightman was still hanging upside down. This was what the D.A. was about, what her training was about, what the Department of Mysteries had been like. Ginny tightened her grip on her wand and stood, shooting curse after hex after curse until she stood beside Harry and they fought together.

"Wrightman," Harry panted, dodging a nasty-looking, jagged spell. Ginny spun out of the way. She understood what he was saying. The professor needed her wand back. Lucius had taken it. Ginny shot a Bat-Boogey hex at Lucius to distract him, quickly followed by the Spearing and Crimineus Charms. Even though the Death Eater managed to dodge all the spells, the effort he expended doing so gave Harry time to Summon the wand from Lucius' pocket and throw it to the defenseless professor.

Caught up in the feeling of triumph, Ginny didn't notice the Impedimenta spell until it was too close to dodge, though she tried anyway. Wandless magic was useless if she couldn't move her hand enough to release herself from this slow-moving prison. Stuck where she was, Ginny was forced to watch Bellatrix make a brutal motion with her wand that sent Wrightman careening toward the ground. Even with her wand, it seemed Wrightman was unable to protect herself from such a swift plummet. The crack of her left arm breaking made Ginny's magic flare once more.

"It is only out of respect for your mother that I don't kill you now!" Bellatrix shouted, slashing her wand at Gertrude and sending a bright blue spell at her. A gold spell intercepted it, which was a lucky thing since Ginny wasn't sure Wrightman could have rolled out of the way in time. However, when she saw that the spell had come from Lucius Malfoy, she was surprised.

"You will not harm her!" Lucius called out even as Harry and he exchanged more and more rapid curses.

"Just try to stop me!" Bellatrix yelled, brandishing her wand as she and Gertrude Wrightman began to fight. "Crucio."

"You never were subtle," Wrightman proclaimed, hefting herself off the ground with her good arm to avoid the spell. One of the professor's curses slashed Bellatrix's arm, but the black-haired woman didn't seem to feel it as she continued her assault.

"Subtle? I'll make you scream!" Bellatrix called back. A red spell flew past her. "You will weep with pain as you feel the power of the Dark Lord."

"It used to be your own power that mattered!" Wrightman called out sneeringly. A dark blue spell hurtled toward her, catching her foot and tripping her briefly. "It used to be you that mattered. No longer. You've given up everything for him: pride, honor, beauty."

"Spoken like a bloodtraiter!" Bellatrix cried out.

Wrightman's entire body flew to the right, crashing into the broken piano. Lying on the ground, her left arm useless, she was unable to move out of the way fast enough to avoid Bellatrix Lestrange kicking away her wand. Then the Death Eater pressed her shoe against Wrightman's neck with enough force to make it clear that she could kill the Defense professor in a moment.

"Are you ready to die?" the woman asked smoothly.

"You can't kill me," Wrightman bit back through her pain, glaring.

Bellatrix laughed crazily.

"You can do only as you are ordered. You're nothing more than a slave!" Wrightman spat. Ginny felt a flash of pride watching the scene, seeing her professor so unwilling to yield even though she was obviously hurting.

"I'm not the one on the ground!" Bellatrix shrieked, backing away two steps and casting the Bashing Hex. It hit Gertrude's broken arm, which suddenly looked sickeningly lumpy and bled profusely. Despite screaming in pain, Gertrude managed to roll, clutching her arm, closer to her wand. Bellatrix gave a particularly condescending look to Wrightman as the professor continued to slide backwards. "How far you have fallen from grace, Gertrude."

"You, a Black, want to talk about falling?" the intrepid professor panted from the ground.

"You will not speak of my family!" Bellatrix screamed.

"What family?" Gertrude shouted back. "You killed them all!"

The counter-jinx to the impedimenta caught Ginny unawares—she never did see who cast it—and since she had been struggling against the spell, she immediately fell forward. Scrambling to keep hold of her wand even as she rushed toward Harry, Ginny saw Nott had also obviously been awakened since he began firing curses at Gertrude. Ginny changed directions and went to aid her professor, but when she got there and started fighting back, Nott had shoved Bellatrix Lestrange toward Lucius and Harry. Nott was clutching his side in obvious pain. Gertrude and Ginny could have easily taken him in such a state if the professor hadn't been half broken and nearly exhausted and Ginny hadn't still been shaking off the after-affects of the jinx.

"The boy. We need the boy," he wheezed. It was obvious to a panicked Ginny that he meant for Bellatrix to incapacitate Harry and steal him away while Nott kept them busy. Harry, she saw, was covered in scratches and cuts, red bloodstains making his blue shirt dark as it stuck to his skin. But he was Harry, and Ginny knew that meant he would fight to his death before he went willingly. Bellatrix Lestrange, however, had plans other than mere kidnapping. Still angry from her exchange with Gertrude and still needing to vent it, the female Death Eater raised her wand and cast the second Unforgivable, Crucio.

Harry's screams filled the entire hall, the entire mansion, filling Ginny's consciousness and making her want to explode with anger. Instead, all it did was unlock the full fury of her magic. And with Gertrude taking on Nott and Lucius reopening the portal, the black void growing even then, Ginny reached out a hand with nothing but malicious intent and yelled, "Imperio."

The spell that pulled away from her felt unlike anything she had ever cast before, unlike even her dream. It felt like Ginny was reaching out with her magic and wrapping Lestrange up in it. And with nothing more than desire, Ginny made Bellatrix Lestrange leap backward at the wall and break her own wand.

But then there was only darkness as Ginny was hit with a spell she had not seen, so consumed was she with the control she wielded. She fell with an angry smile on her face.

* * *

In the Hospital Wing at Hogwarts, thinking back on the Ball, Ginny felt the first stirrings of panic as she remembered those last moments. She had cast an Unforgivable. She had cast an Unforgivable in front a bunch of Death Eaters, her professor, and Harry. This was not good.

What if they sent her to Azkaban? No. They had no proof. She'd done it wandlessly. They didn't need to know.

But she knew. And that was awful enough.

Out of her daze of guilt and memories, Ginny recognized the sounds of someone moving about the room. Ginny sat up and recognized the blurry image of Professor Wrightman standing at the base of the bed next to hers.

"Professor?" Ginny said, voice shaky. What the hell had she been hit with?

Wrightman, arm in a sling, looked over at her. "You're awake."

"Yes. How're you?" Ginny asked, pushing herself further up on her bed. "Your arm—"

"Will be healed by this time tomorrow. Professor Snape provided a salve." Her clear blue eyes had dark circles underneath them.

"How long have I been here?"

"Two days. You also spent one night and one day in St. Mungo's, but I brought you here for further treatment," Wrightman said.

"You did?"

"Madam Pompfrey is reliable and discreet," she said, sinking into the chair at the base of the bed. It was the first time Ginny had ever seen her look so worn. But then she remembered the professor scrambling on the ground and sneering at Bellatrix Lestrange, and decided that Wrightman was never entirely weak.

The person on the bed next to hers stirred, and Ginny glanced over. It was Harry, looking pretty awful.

"What's wrong with him?"

"A medley of curses and some rather awful dreams," Wrightman said, watching the fitful boy.

"But he'll be okay?" Ginny asked, not taking her eyes from Harry, wanting to reach out and hold his hand.

"He'll survive. He always does." Wrightman looked down at him with a thoughtful, if grave, expression, and Ginny couldn't help but think of the memories in the Pensieve that she had seen. How many times had she stood by the victims of an attack? How many hadn't made it?

Then another thought came to Ginny, and she asked, "How's Luna?"

Wrightman looked toward the corner of the Infirmary where there were curtains drawn around the last bed. "She's recovering. Her father's with her."

"She was hit by that same thing that got Hermione last year," Ginny said.

"By a less skilled wizard," Wrightman said. Luna was one of Ginny's best friends, and she didn't know what would happen if she lost her.

"And everyone else? The other students? Theo and Baron?" The questions were starting to overflow, but her professor seemed willing to answer.

"They were banished from my estate to the outlying town. Theodore was Portkeyed to his home. None sustained serious injury."

"How? How did this happen?" Ginny wanted to know. "You suspected it; why did you keep us there? Why not send us away?"

"I didn't think they would be able to breech the property." Gertrude stared hard at Harry's now-still face. "My wards have been infallible for close to twenty years. It didn't occur to me that Draco being the Black heir would change that."

"Why should that matter?"

Gertrude eyed Ginny unhappily.

"You've seen my memories, Miss Weasley. You know to whom I was betrothed, and you know that Old Families can never fully break the magic in that agreement. It is the reason I am able to visit 12 Grimmauld Place. And if the Black heir wanted to invite guests to one of my homes after he had been willingly invited in, he had every right to do so." She clearly would not speak about this anymore. "As for how they banished the students, I have only guesses."

"Well, that's not exactly comforting," Ginny said, balling the sheets up in her hand.

Wrightman didn't respond. For a woman who had been bleeding and beaten, she still managed to look poised.

"How did we get out?" Ginny asked.

"After you incapacitated Bellatrix Lestrange, the barrier in front of my elves fell, and they took all of you to St. Mungo's."

"And you?"

"I stayed to watch the last Death Eater leave my home, which happened rapidly once Harry was gone. And then I collapsed the old wards to let the Aurors in," Gertrude said, as if she had let herself down despite the impressive fighting that she had done.

"About Bellatrix," Ginny said, voice scratchy but strong. "I did something—"

Cutting her off, Gertrude locked eyes with Ginny and said, "If you're going to be vague, don't bother continuing."

"But I—"

"Stopped her," Wrightman said firmly, a glint in her eye.

So she did remember Ginny's use of the Imperius, but she was willing to let it go, it seemed. Absolution on a gold tray.

"That's not right," Ginny said, remembering the rush of power she'd felt controlling that awful woman. "Where's the line?"

Wrightman laid her hands on the arms of the chair. "What line?"

"The one that makes you good."

"Good doesn't matter in war. Just choices and consequences." Professor Wrightman stood. "I need to go home. My house-elf will collect you from Professor McGonagall's office when Madam Pomfrey clears you."

Gertrude swept out of the room in her light-blue robes and clicking shoes. She was a strange professor. An even stranger confidant. And Ginny wondered if she would ever understand her, but instead of trying to figure that out, Ginny rested her head on the pillow and decided that a little more sleep would be good for everyone.

* * *

The next time Ginny opened her eyes, Harry was sitting up in bed clutching his head. It seemed to be early morning.

"Harry, what's the matter?" Ginny asked, waking far more quickly than last time.

"He's happy about something," Harry muttered, hands on his temples. Voldemort was happy despite not capturing any of them? Was it possible that the entire thing was a distraction for a grander plan? But then why send such important Death Eaters?

"What about?" she asked.

"I don't know. It's gone now," Harry said, wincing as he shifted sitting positions.

Ginny relaxed against the wall behind her, closing her eyes briefly and trying to adjust to the light. When she had spoken to Professor Wrightman, it had been at night.

"Well, at least you're up. Now I'll have someone to talk to. I'd get bored here all by myself," Ginny said. He asked about everyone, including their blonde professor, and Ginny filled him in on everything that she knew.

"Why'd we get moved here?" Harry asked.

"Probably because Pomfrey's treated you so many times that she has a secret cache of potions just for you," Ginny said. Harry looked slightly amused, but more preoccupied. He looked toward the door through which the matron usually came bustling.

"Luna's going to be alright?" Harry asked, eyes darting to the curtain.

"I don't know. Sounded like she was in bad shape. But you know Luna. She's a fighter."

"That's kind of you to say," Luna herself said in her usual airy way. Then the strangest thing happened: she appeared from behind the curtain on a chair with great big wheels on either side. "I've gotten this wonderful Muggle chair from father, which is nice. Madam Pomfrey said I couldn't walk yet because of the blood that gushes out when I move. So I sit and push and it still bleeds a little, but not as much."

The blonde girl had great big bandages wrapped around her middle. There were a couple of red splotches that seemed to indicate it needed to be switched. But those disappeared, as all blood did in good magical bandages.

"It was an exciting night, though, wasn't it?" Luna said, now at the foot of the space between Ginny and Harry. "A bit like fighting at the Ministry. I wish I could have been more help."

"You were brilliant, Luna," Ginny said. "Covered me like a pro."

"Dumbledore's Army really is wonderful, isn't it?"

If there was anything that Luna was especially good at, it was making the most of every situation. And in this case, she managed to make the entire night feel more distant and less threatening than it really was, which Ginny and Harry both appreciated. Luna would be staying at Spinner's End for the summer, and Ginny was relieved not to have to be particularly concerned with her safety over the holiday.

The three talked until Pomfrey came out and nearly had a fit that Luna was wheeling herself about the room.

Worrying that the matron would explode if she faced any more tension, Ginny took her potions quietly and without questions.

Her family visited, and they were generally very wonderful. Her mother brought her favorite cookies in a big tin and put them next to the bed. Her dad gave her a hug, but couldn't say much beyond that. Ron and Hermione visited Harry and, as always, it was like he was a different person when it was jut the three of them, engaged and adamant. Hermione fussed, of course, like anyone might expect she would. Ron gave Harry a nudge and told him that he thought Harry knew he was only supposed to get into trouble like this when Ron and Hermione were there to help him, which made Harry grin.

It didn't seem odd at all to Ginny that while only family was supposed to visit, Hermione and Ron managed to lodge themselves next to Harry until Pomfrey cleared the room that night for them to sleep, assuring everyone that they would be released the next day. Luna would have to stay awhile longer.

* * *

The next morning, after they'd had breakfast and dressed and said goodbye to Luna, Harry and Ginny left the Infirmary together. Harry was heading to Dumbledore's office, where he was going to use the Floo to go to Spinner's End. Ginny was heading to McGonagall's.

"You're going to Wrightman's house now?" Harry asked as they walked down the corridor.

"Yeah," Ginny said. "My stuff's already there."

"Right," Harry said, as if he'd forgotten. "The one in France?"

"Yeah, how'd you know that?" Ginny asked, stopping at the corridor where they had to split up.

"We talked," Harry said, scratching his ear.

"I thought you didn't like her."

He shrugged. "She knew my mum really well. Like Sirius knew my dad."

If there were one thing in the world that Ginny could do, it would be to fill Harry's life with people he could think of as family. People like Professor Wrightman, who would wait at the foot of his bed for days to see him wake up. People like her mum who hugged Harry like a son, even when that wasn't at all what he needed. Because that's what family was: the people who were there when you fell down, whether or not you wanted them to see your fall.

"Well, since I'm going to slave away under her watch, you have to promise to have a fun holiday for me," she said. Harry smiled his boyish smile, looking every bit as handsome as the best looking guy in school.

"I'll throw a party at Spinner's End in your honor with lots of firewhiskey."

"And loud music and awful food," she added. "It's not a party unless there are at least three ways to make yourself sick."

"Then I'll have to invite the twins. They'll bring a dozen ways to make people ill and make it the best party around," he said.

"My brothers are very special that way," she agreed, thinking fondly of Fred and George, only to feel a sharp pang as she realized that she wouldn't see them for a long time. "Maybe I'll have to sneak out and join you, though I'm sure Wrightman could track the French version of the Knightbus."

"Use Muggle transportation," Harry said. "A plane and then the Chunnel."

"Chunnel?" Ginny repeated, almost laughing. "What is that?"

"Look it up this summer. It's not like you'll have anything else to do, stuck all the way over in France," Harry teased, still smiling.

"I'm going to be working in London, with a whole bunch of really interesting stuff," she said.

"Sure, like the giant brain that tried to eat your brother and the time-turners that turned that Death Eater's head into a baby," Harry said, and they laughed.

"Exactly like that. Maybe I'll find a way to make Ron grow up at last," Ginny said.

"Impossible. Hermione's tried for years now," Harry said, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest.

"But she didn't have the Mysteries of the Ministry on her side. I will. And more, I will have Unspeakables."

"Fred and George'll be harassing you for information before the week is out," Harry said.

"Yeah, and since you're their secret, silent partner, I suppose you'll want me to break the secrecy oath or whatever they make me take," she said.

Harry looked surprised. "I didn't know you knew about that."

"The start-up money you gave them? Please, I am their favorite. Of course they told me," she said casually.

"How'd you figure it out?" Harry asked, clearly not believing her lie.

"Overheard them talking about shipping you a big box of goods as a 'thank you,'" she said. "Wasn't hard to manipulate out of them why they were doing it. But I really am their favorite."

"I could believe that," Harry said. "Ron's always talking about the pranks you pulled on him as a kid."

"He was just a pansy," she said, waving it off.

"But your Bat Bogey Hex is legendary. The twins told me about it," Harry said. She grinned. It really was her pride and joy.

"Malfoy could attest to that, too."

"He does seem to flinch away from you in class," he said, which made her laugh.

She supposed, if she and Harry were very different people, that they would talk about what happened at the Ball. But while they both knew they could, neither of them needed to go over it again, having spent hours dealing with questions from friends and family. Instead, they gave each other the chance to pretend, for just that moment, like everything was normal and right.

A long time ago, he had saved her life, but they had fought together twice now—survived by gritting their teeth and fast instincts. And even if he wasn't looking at her like he wanted to make her his second-in-command, she knew that he never looked at anyone like that except Ron and Hermione. At least he wasn't apologizing for what happened or checking to make sure she was okay. She wasn't. He wasn't either. But they were alive.

"Party or no, have a good holiday. Write me sometime," Ginny said, giving him a quick hug. And if he held onto her a bit longer than was strictly necessary, she tried not to notice as she attempted to squash the butterflies that had suddenly come to life in her stomach.

"I'll try," he said, looking sheepish.

"Try?" she asked smilingly.

"I'm not a very good correspondent," he said, and though his words were light, he looked very much like he had right before going to Umbridge's class the year before: tense and purposeful.

"You're going to do something stupid, aren't you?" she asked, watching his eyes carefully because while he made carrying burdens look natural, he kept getting a bit older than he should.

He didn't reply, just looked at her rather closely, as if he were trying to memorize her face. She wouldn't have noticed except that on the heels of a Ball that she knew he would never talk about, she worried that he was leaving for some reason. But then he brushed the back of his finger along Ginny's cheek, and she was forced suddenly to concentrate on trying to breathe.

"You'll have a good holiday," he said quietly, and she couldn't look away from his eyes even as his hand dropped down to his side.

"Are you trying to say goodbye to me?" she asked.

He just gave her a half smile. What could he possibly be doing that would make him act so strangely? She comforted herself with the knowledge that she would be spending the holiday helping him in her own way, and that Ron and Hermione would be with him, fighting to protect him, just like always.

"I know you're capable of a lot," she said, "but don't forget that we're here when you need us. Neville, Luna, and I especially."

"I won't," he said sincerely.

"Good," she said, despite having accomplished absolutely nothing. "I'll see you in September, I suppose."

"Have a good time with Wrightman."

"Have fun at your party," she said, grinning, and turned to leave.

It was hard to properly explain how surprised she was when he grabbed her hand. Looking questioningly at him, she would have raised an eyebrow if she could.

But any words she might have asked stuck in her throat when he took a step forward and stood so close to her that she wasn't entirely sure what was happening. Then he put his hand on her waist, and she forgot nearly everything else.

They were so close, so painfully, wonderfully close, that she could feel the hum of his body, the steady (if hurried) beating of his heart, the raggedness of his breathing on her cheeks.

The overwhelming rush of desire increased as she twisted her face to look up at him, enhancing the already palpable heat between them, and Ginny honestly thought she was either going to snog him to within an inch of his life, or pass out.

His eyes were smoldering and Ginny felt like every nerve in her skin was buzzing. And the look in his eyes was so bloody intense that she wasn't sure if he wanted to kiss her or thrash the living daylights out of her.

And, oh, did she want him to kiss her.

But then his eyes closed off, and he stiffened as though he'd mentally withdrawn and dropped his hand. She wanted to hex him.

"Are you just playing with me?" she asked, yanking herself completely away from him.

"What?"

"What the hell was that?" she asked, pointing to where they just stood. "Why did you—"

"I just—I didn't want you to go."

"So you did that? You thought that was—" She cut herself off, too angry to continue. "Do you have no idea how I feel about you? How much I— Don't just play with me. Either kiss me next time or let me walk away."

If he ever did kiss her, or love her, or ask her out, or what have you, it had to be what he truly wanted. Ginny didn't want to be settled for, and she sure as hell didn't want to settle for someone who didn't love her of his own volition. They had just gone through yet another terribly harrowing sequence of events, and a kiss right now could be the result of many other things besides love.

Still, she just wanted a sign—any sign that she wasn't alone on this, that he wanted her all to himself quite as badly as she wanted him.

So, against her own will, against the will of her body that was practically screaming for contact with him, Ginny backed away from Harry, held his gaze for a moment, and walked away.

* * *

Living at Gertrude Wrightman's, Ginny found out the first day, was rather like staying at a hotel. Her room was always clean whenever she came back to it. The sheets were changed daily. The food was never prepared by a family member. And the first floor of the mansion was constantly housing various guests for tea, dinner, dessert, or just a discussion so it was very important to always wear formal robes.

Ginny was in the process of finding her way from her room to the kitchen (and getting lost in the second dining room, the china room, and the second floor loo along the way) when she heard Professor Wrightman's voice and decided just to ask for directions. She pondered the thought of leaving breadcrumbs behind her as a guide next time, but already knew from her short stay that the Wrightman house-elves would pick up the crumbs before they hit the ground.

"I've heard that you have a houseguest," a woman said to Professor Wrightman as Ginny stepped up to the door. Ginny couldn't see her, but the woman sounded friendly and casual, and walked with purpose in her elegant sunrobes.

"Yes, a new apprentice to the Department of Mysteries," Professor Wrightman said, extending a left arm to direct the woman a bit closer to Ginny.

"So she's a troublemaker like you," the woman said, turning. Ginny caught a glimpse of her face, and she interrupted without thought.

"Wotcher!" Ginny called out.

The stranger—who at a glance Ginny had incorrectly pegged for the young Auror Nymphadora Tonks—turned. Professor Wrightman merely raised an eyebrow at Ginny. Yet with just that stupid eyebrow lift, that tiny blonde woman managed to make Ginny feel as though her mother had given her a thorough dressing down. That irritated Ginny. A lot.

The stranger watched Ginny Weasley with a curious, amused on her face.

Wrightman gestured toward Ginny as she said, "Andromeda Tonks, I would like to introduce to you my houseguest, Ginevra Weasley."

Ginny inclined her head, shocked to be meeting Tonks's mother. It did not surprise her, however, that the name Tonks sounded odd in Professor Wrightman's voice.

"Pleased to meet you, Miss Weasley, though you seem to be acquainted with me already," Mrs. Tonks said. Ginny was so caught up in identifying the other faces that she saw in this woman's countenance—Tonks, for one, as well as Mrs. Malfoy and Bellatrix Lestrange—that it took her a moment to realize that Andromeda might not know about her daughter's involvement in the Order.

"Sorry about that," Ginny said, trying to sound sincere. "You looked like a friend of mine is all."

"I hope the comparison's a good one; I'm not a young witch anymore," Mrs. Tonks said, her grey eyes watching Ginny. A flash of unexpected hurt stabbed Ginny in the gut: the woman served as a visible reminder of both Sirius and Bellatrix Lestrange. How could Professor Wrightman stand to talk to this woman?

"Were you looking for something?" Professor Wrightman asked Ginny, causing her to stop staring at Andromeda Tonks.

"What? Oh. Yes. I was trying to find the kitchen," Ginny said, looking directly at her professor and not daring to give into her curiosity and stare again at Sirius's cousin.

"Shenny," Professor Wrightman called.

"Oh! No. It's not his fault—" Ginny protested, but the pop of the house-elf cut her off.

"Yes, Mistress?" asked Shenny, the tiny green elf that Professor Wrightman had assigned to follow Ginny everywhere she went.

"Miss Weasley was having difficulty finding the kitchen," Wrightman said.

"Shenny is not knowing this, Mistress," the elf said, looking guilt-ridden and horrible. That, of course, made Ginny feel terrible.

"Miss Weasley is your charge until September. I will not remind you again."

"Shenny is knowing but Miss Wheezy is asking Shenny to be staying away," Shenny said, large blue eyes focused on Wrightman. Ginny wanted to stomp on the ground and pout when Professor Wrightman looked questioningly at her.

"You asked Shenny to stay away?"

"Just for a little while," Ginny said, trying not to sound ungrateful for the ridiculously nice gift of her own personal house-elf for the summer. Merlin knows her mother had always said her life would be a thousand times easier if the family had one, and life was, but it was also creepy to turn around and have Shenny right there all the time. "Shenny was so good at his tasks that I wanted to give him a break and see if I could find my way to the kitchen on my own."

The professor gave her an odd look. "Shenny's job is to make your stay as enjoyable and efficient as possible."

"I know. And he's been really wonderful," Ginny said.

"Then if you wouldn't mind the company, Shenny can lead you to the kitchen now," Wrightman said, effectively dropping the subject, which was fine. Wrightman had probably been raised with her own house-elf and couldn't really understand why Ginny wouldn't be comfortable having a servant running around and generally making life easier.

"Miss be following Shenny please," the house-elf said quickly, leading Ginny out of the room. Ginny spared a moment to incline her head at Wrightman and tell Mrs. Tonks it was nice to meet her.

"She must know Nymphadora. People are only ever that interested in me after they meet my daughter on a pink or purple hair day," Mrs. Tonks said. Ginny stopped walking just outside their line of sight, cocking her head to the side to listen to the answer to that potentially problematic question. Eavesdropping really was becoming a problem for her, wasn't it?

"Nymphadora, aside from changing her features weekly, left school three years before Ginevra arrived." Ginny wanted to be surprised at Professor Wrightman's effective brushing off of the comment, but all she could manage was to wonder if Wrightman actually knew that Ginny was acquainted with Tonks.

"That young girl stared at me like I was a particularly complicated puzzle."

"Ginny was involved in that Ministry business last June," Professor Wrightman said, "and even if she hadn't been, the Azkaban escape last January was on the front page of the Prophet."

"Ah, yes of course: Bellatrix. The only person to leave a stronger impression than a spiky-hair metamorphagus Auror," Andromeda Tonks said. "She always was rather special, and Mother claimed we looked like twins."

"I have never noticed much of a resemblance," Professor Wrightman said, sounding oddly comforting in her detached way. Ginny began to walk away again, trying to find her helpful little house-elf even as she wondered how Wrightman could be so calm talking about Bellatrix, the woman who had attacked her and her home less than a week ago.

Horrible as it sounded, it was difficult to forgive Andromeda Tonks for being connected to the people that had scorned and killed Sirius. But maybe Ginny ought to focus on the fact that Andromeda was also related to Tonks and Sirius himself, and remember that Sirius had pointed to her scorch mark on the wall and said that she was his one decent cousin.

Ginny and the house-elf had arrived at the kitchen, and the little creature was running around making Ginny all sorts of wonderful snacks and drinks. If she ever thought she could be this pretentious, Ginny might have gotten used to this lifestyle.

After accepting a cup of tea and enough sweets to fill a plate, Ginny found herself wandering into the sitting room adjacent to the kitchen where Gertrude's daughter sat reading sheet music on the bench of the grand piano. At nine, Juliette was perfectly adorable looking so concentrated. Her uptight piano tutor did not look adorable, however, and Ginny felt very wrong carrying her food through the room, but when the little girl began playing, Ginny stopped moving to listen.

It seemed hard to believe that a nine year old was playing that piece. Even with the piano keys moving close together to help her along, her little hands could never reach the appropriate spots; Ginny peeked over the top to see that the girl's hands were indeed the only ones on the keys. Excellent. She made a mental note to pressure Theo or Devon into playing her something at school when they got back, sure that all those old families took similar lessons.

After the song was done, Ginny felt like clapping, but seeing as her hands were full she settled on saying, "You play beautifully."

The girl looked over at her with sharp blue eyes, but she and her tutor started talking rapidly in French before Juliette could say anything to Ginny. She would have to brush up on her Translation Spells before the end of the summer.

Gertrude's son, Demetrius, was similarly occupied with a tutor in the study down the hall from the main entry that Ginny passed on her way to find a table outside at which to eat. Juliette and Demetrius, Ginny had found out quickly, were really intelligent, accomplished kids.

Ginny found a nice table outside with a soft chair and settled down to munch on her snacks and look over the grounds. Shenny was happy to pop in and out and provide anything Ginny needed. Yes, the house was very, very impressive.

"Is this where you meant to go?" Ginny started at the sound of Gertrude's voice and spun around to see the older woman standing in the doorway, looking over her estate with a content look on her face. Ginny wasn't sure if she had ever seen her professor look like that and for the first time, Ginny realized that this place truly was her home.

"Actually, yes," Ginny said. "It's a beautiful view. You have a lovely home."

"Thank you." Gertrude nodded as if to herself and said, "We'll be having company at dinner."

They had had company the night before, two women from a board that Wrightman was on who spoke French. And Andromeda Tonks had stopped over for tea that day, prompting Ginny to jokingly say, "If you're going to have this many guests on a regular basis, I'll need a few more formal robes."

Wrightman nodded smartly. "I'll have a tailor come by tomorrow."

"I was joking," Ginny said quickly.

Wrightman looked at her. "It was a good suggestion." And that was the end of that discussion. Yep, Ginny was certainly in for a very interesting holiday.

* * *

The new robes Ginny got were exquisite: the best materials and tailors. There were about a dozen of them, and though Ginny tried to protest at first, Wrightman brushed it all aside and merely said that Ginny would repay her by wearing the robes as often as possible. Which actually worked out well because Ginny probably fit into Wrightman's house better in the new robes.

Wrightman's mansion was impeccable. The walls were clean. The floor was spotless. The carpet was squashy and stainless. The couches looked new. Voices were kept low. Even the portraits were polite. It was such a stark contrast to the warm, lived-in feel of the Burrow.

Not that Wrightman's wasn't lovely. It was. The details were incredible: high, vaulted ceilings; gorgeous orange glass vases on old mahogany counters; soft music playing whenever you entered a room; lighting coming from invisible candles; large glass windows and doors that looked out with a view of the Alps; and a large garden in the back maintained by thousands of spells. It was overwhelming, stunning. The library was huge, and the food delicious.

Plus, there were always interesting people visiting: friends of Gertrude's husband (who was in Russia for months attending a conference concerning some kind of international treaty) who spoke French but switched to English to ask Ginny polite questions until Gertrude subtly placed the French Translation Spell on Ginny; there were people from families whose names Ginny knew but had never met; she was pretty sure a Spanish princess visited for tea the third day. And all the while Juliette and Demetrius learned their lessons and politely presented themselves. Ginny admired their patience. If she were eight or ten, she would have been complaining too loudly for her mother to think, let alone discuss the politics of the Asian wizarding society.

Those first few days were also a time when Ginny had to fill out all the paperwork concerning her job, sign an unbreakable non-disclosure agreement, and have a medical check up at St. Mungo's for her job. They also had her wand examined, tested for jinxes and hexes, and tagged with a locator spell for safety.

"Was the Ministry this strict before the break in?" Ginny asked Gertrude.

"Yes," Gertrude said. "Only the physical security systems have been updated."

"Oh."

"We do a lot of work that the public should not know about until it has practical applications, so we like to ensure its secrecy."

Ginny could not be more excited to start work and learn all about those secrets.

Her first day of work found Ginny and Wrightman walking through the Ministry, but not taking the same route to the Department of Mysteries that she and her friends had employed at the end of her fourth year, through the lifts in the Atrium to the black door and the revolving door room. Instead, they used the lift to take them to the Magical Law Enforcement Level on the highest floor of the Ministry (well, the second highest since the highest was thought to be the Minister's private chamber). They walked through the rows of offices and entered a nondescript door.

A regular-looking man glanced up at them, and said, "Good morning. Can I help you?"

"Not today, but thank you," Wrightman replied, pulling a piece of parchment from her carrying case and putting it in the rubbish bin, which promptly lit on fire. Wrightman then pulled a pinch of Floo Powder out of a satchel and threw it on the bin.

The man at the desk must have noticed Ginny's curiosity about the magic involved in creating what was likely a Floo-connection through a fire that wasn't inside a fireplace.

"It's an internal network," the man said to Ginny, smiling. He looked at Wrightman. "Is this the apprentice?"

She nodded.

"Nice to meet you," the man said, standing and extending a hand.

Ginny shook it, feeling a shock pass through her and quickly yanking her hand back. "Ouch."

"Sorry about that. Just another precaution. To let you use the internal network," the man explained. Wrightman moved toward the fire.

Ginny shook her hand out a bit and leaned over to examine the green flame in the bin.

"I've never heard of anything like this before," Ginny said, impressed. The Unspeakables were such a mysterious group that it didn't surprise her to learn they had their own private modes of transportation. She wondered if that might work for any house. A closed-circuit Floo would ensure that it could not be monitored. The Order would definitely be interested in something like that, especially if it could extend beyond a single building.

Too bad she was magically bound to keep it a secret.

The man grinned. "It's all a matter of thought. The network functions not as an elastic conductor between two fireplaces for the travel of the witch or wizard and their physical bearings, but rather as a focused tunnel between two infinitely smaller points. And because of the size and the limited distance and number of passengers, the portals can be redesigned to transport the ethereal matter that is your thoughts, which your physical self follows."

"I hope you'll explain that again to me sometime." Ginny sort of followed his reasoning, but didn't fully understand the mechanics. Perhaps at the end of the summer, she'd understand a bit better. Her excitement for her apprenticeship grew.

He started to say, "It works like—"

"You'll have time to explain your theories later, Carver," Gertrude cut him off, which was a shame because Ginny was hoping to know more about it.

But then the professor calmly said, "Office 7, password imparare," before stepping into the fire. There was a moment's pause and then the professor looked like she was sucked through a small hole in the ground.

After waiting a moment to make sure Wrightman wasn't still in the floor, Ginny repeated, "Office 7, password imparare," and stepped into the fire just like her professor had. And then she was suddenly yanked straight down. Instinctively, she closed her eyes and tucked in her elbows like she always did when Flooing. It felt very, very little like the Floo. There was no spinning. Just rapid falling. And then an abrupt stop.

When she opened her eyes, she was in Gertrude Wrightman's personal office, and Ginny's first thought was that it couldn't actually be Wrightman's.

The office was covered wall-to-wall with pictures: pictures of Gertrude in her school robes; pictures of Gertrude with her mother, whom Ginny had seen in Gertrude's Pensieve, and a severe looking man Ginny assumed was her father; pictures of Gertrude looking unhappily at a cat that wound around her ankle; pictures of Quidditch games with Gertrude in the stands; and one of Gertrude at a Christmas Ball.

As Ginny circled the room looking at all of the hanging pictures (a pony next to young Gertrude jumped to one of Gertrude and three girls Ginny assumed were her year mates), she said, "I really hadn't expected this."

Gertrude looked around as if she didn't do it very often and the sight of the walls made her feel odd.

"Did you hang all of these?" Ginny asked.

"No."

Ginny found the picture from the yearbook, the Friendship Appreciation Day one that had a young Lily Potter in it. Actually, once she took the time, she saw Lily Potter pop up quite a few times, including one where she was standing next to Gertrude while holding a tiny baby with tuft of jet-black hair. Ginny gaped.

"Is that Harry?"

Gertrude walked over to look closer. "Yes."

She offered no further explanation. "He's so small."

"It was just after he was born," Wrightman said, eyes trailing over the colorful pictures. Soon Ginny had found pictures of Wrightman with her two children as toddlers, pictures of Wrightman on her wedding day looking formally beautiful in her posed picture with her bride's maids. It was like the room was a scrapbook of Gertrude Wrightman's life, and the blank space on the wall behind her desk was waiting for more.

"How did you do this?" Ginny asked. She wanted to do the same thing to her room at home.

Wrightman moved to sit behind her desk. "Lily did it. She enchanted the room to display copies of any picture that had me in it as long as people cast a simple charm on it."

"And you've charmed all of these pictures?" Ginny found a picture of what must have been the Black and White Ball that Theo and Baron and Gretchen had been talking about. Wrightman's dress was a striking white with a bit of a plunging neckline and a thick black stripe around the middle of her tiny waist. The people in the background matched.

"No. Lily told quite a few people about the Mirror Charm," Gertrude said, "including my house-elves, whom she recruited to put the charm on all of my photo albums."

Ginny smiled. "You never asked them to stop?"

"I did, but then there were people like Christine McGrath who insisted on continuing the tradition." Ginny remembered Sirius staring at photos in the middle of the night and wondered if he had cast a few charms that night as well.

"It's—" Ginny couldn't even think of a single word. Wonderful? Amazing? Colorful? So very not Gertrude Wrightman? These pictures made the small little office feel more like a home than the giant mansion that Wrightman actually lived in, the one filled with couches no one used and portraits of people who looked absolutely stiff in their frames all day.

"Cozy is a word some people use," Wrightman supplied, settling into her desk with one last look around. "I need to fill out a few forms before you'll be able to go in officially. Please sit."

* * *

Ginny's duties were soon assigned to her. For the first two days she would work with each of the Unspeakable groups over the course of her apprenticeship, acquainting herself with everyone and their work, taking notes for them, doing any research they required, and writing weekly reports about what she saw and how she thought it might apply to the research that other groups were doing. Once her internship started, however, it became clear almost immediately that most of the Unspeakables expected Ginny to pick things up without explanation.

She worked in all of the rooms in different capacities, and studied some of the experiments going on in each. The Brain Room was working to create a broom powered by thought, which seemed impossible until Carver started talking about the magic inherent in thought.

"If we could channel the astronomical energy that the brain uses for everyday functions, like controlling your toes, and convert that into energy more like that which it uses to channel your magic from your magical core through your wand, we could create a thought-powered broom," he claimed.

"Brooms today," explained a woman working with him, "require many, many charms and spells. It makes them susceptible to hexes and jinxes."

"But we worry that what we mean to create may require a magical core," Carver added.

"Which may result in a really large, useless wand that would drain you of magic as you rode, like the current ones do," the woman was sitting at one of the desks surrounding the large green tank in the middle of the room that housed the pearly-white brains. Carver stood next to her. "So we're trying to isolate the energy of a thought impulse to see how it works."

"Any suggestions?" Carver asked. He and his partner—her name was Luster—looked at her quite seriously.

"I've never considered a problem quite like this," Ginny admitted.

Carver smiled. "None of us had before we came here! That's half the fun."

They talked a bit more about the work they were doing, and Ginny took some notes. Then they segued into a discussion of the way non-verbal spells were powered by thought and how the main goal of the room had always been to understand the relationship between thought and magic and whether it was the actual word that mattered or if it was the idea of the spell. They wanted to know about how thought was converted into magic, and Ginny spent three hours talking to them about the various theories involved in their study. She'd written five feet more about the room than she was supposed to as part of her assignment.

Actually, she'd written more than was require for all of the rooms, though the Brain Room seemed to be the only one that was trying to find a way to create a specific object that harnessed the power of their subject. Other rooms focused more on general application.

For instance, the end of the first week found Ginny in the Planet Room working with five Unspeakables to try to learn how to strip one of the planets of its gravity completely.

"Once we've stripped it," a man named Kershner said, "we'll look into simply cutting its gravitational pull in half. We're trying to find ways to control general household objects so that they don't fall so quickly to the ground in a way that doesn't require a prolonged Levitation Spell."

"To keep the objects from breaking?" Ginny guessed.

The man nodded. "Exactly. The Hall of Prophecy actually asked us to find a way to protect the prophecies even if they were knocked off their shelves, and we thought that if we could make them fall at half or one-fourth the speed of gravity, that would be a good first step."

She spent the second week working with them on that project. She spent hours in the Ministry library on the third flood looking up spells and then practicing them in the Planet room. When she and Wrightman arrived every morning, it was the first place she went, looking up and recording useful information and trying to apply it throughout the day.

She was more engaged in this work than she had ever been in her schoolwork, though she found her schoolwork helpful. In fact, she'd had to brew a couple of potions to test a theory she had about dipping objects in a permanent solution that had enough dragon tongue to make it float. It wasn't harnessing gravity, but rather using a spell. She thought that they could study the behavior of the object in the Planets Room in order to see the specific changes they wanted to aim for.

Almost unbelievably, all of the Unspeakables treated Ginny like an equal. They took her work and suggestions and commentary seriously. She often found herself shooting off spells at a crucial moment in an experiment and writing up lab reports at the end of the day that they used the following day.

It was thrilling. It was absorbing. And it was frustrating to think about having to switch rooms at the end of the week. So she went to the head Unspeakable, a woman named Amelia Allen, and requested to stay in the Planet Room a little while longer.

"Why?" Allen had asked.

"I find the work they're doing really interesting right now, and I think that if we worked on stripping apart the Levitation spell, breaking down its roots and seeing how each affected a different object in relation to the planets, that we might be able to understand which part we should expand on," Ginny said, wondering whether she'd managed to convey her reasons coherently.

Luckily for her, Amelia Allen was one Department Head who made sure she understood exactly what was going on in each and every room. She knew exactly what Ginny meant, and let her stay for an extra week, but insisted that she switch after that time and learn more about the other rooms as well.

While they didn't find the solution to the problem during Ginny's extra week, they made exciting progress as they discovered the affect of using a Banishing Charm against the pull of gravity. She would have loved to stay, but she was overdue in the Death Chamber to work with the three Unspeakables who sat at the back of the room, backs against the wall, and studied the veil that had stolen Sirius Black from the wizarding world.

Ginny had thought that seeing the veil would make her want to throw up or cry or break down, but instead it made her feel empowered. It also, weirdly, made her feel like she belonged. More than any other room in the building, Ginny felt like she had a right to be in the room that had stolen her friend.

The Unspeakables there were all soft-spoken respectful people with a wide berth of knowledge about all religions. Even ancient ones.

"We've traveled to Mycenae and studied the ruins. The Greek Temples. The Aztec Temples. Christian Churches. Jewish Temples. Muslim Mosques," the man said when the subject was brought up. "Angkor Watt was most interesting. The carvings. The beliefs. The magic that exists in the land itself. There are magical hotspots all over the world. Most of the accessible and many of the difficult to reach hotspots have some sort of religious building marking its location, suggesting that Muggles feel the affects."

While her work in that room required less spell work as she examined the indestructible veil and archway, Ginny found it just as fascinating as the Planet Room.

But it was Wrightman's work that had Ginny most puzzled. She worked with Love, a locked door that repelled every spell sent at it.

"Even Avada Kedavra?" Ginny asked, thoroughly intrigued on the very first day working there.

"No one ever cast it on the door," Wrightman admitted. "It could kill you."

Toward the end of the day, when Amelia Allen was checking on Wrightman and her team's progress, Ginny asked how all of these rooms had been set up. How had love been captured and shoved into that room? How had the veil been made to kill people? How did they control time? The answer had been brief.

"The first Unspeakables built these rooms over two hundred years ago," Allen said.

"Did they write down how they did it?" Ginny asked.

Amelia Allen looked critically at Ginny. "Their notes are in the Department archives."

"Do you think I could read them?" Ginny asked, eagerly. The Department was everything that she could have ever wanted in an apprenticeship, and seeing the notes about how the Department had been founded sounded like something she could study for weeks. This was the type of stuff Binns should have been teaching.

"I will see about giving you access within the week and send you a note," Allen said, standing. She left the room then, stepping through the third door on the left. The moment it shut, the doors spun and Wrightman and Ginny moved over to where the Love door had stopped.

"She knows a lot about this Department, doesn't she?" Ginny remarked. Working with Allen had come to be one of the highlights of working in the DoM. All of the other Unspeakables seemed to defer to the elderly woman who had such intelligent brown eyes. Ginny would have paid good money to hear a conversation between her and Dumbledore. Their combined knowledge would be staggering.

"She's been here a long time. She headed the committee in charge of restoring the rooms after the battle last June," Wrightman said without looking up from her notes. After working at the Department for a month, Ginny felt her stomach clench at the reminder of the damage that she and her friends had inflicted. She knew that the magic inherently in the objects was unbreakable, but she also knew that they probably set the department's research back months, if not years.

"How long did the repairs take?" Ginny asked.

"They're still on-going."

There were no windows in the department, so Ginny continued to stare at the door. "I feel awful about that."

"Don't," Wrightman said, picking up her wand and prodding the bottom right corner of the door. "We learned a great deal about the effects of dark magic from that period, which some in the department had been unwilling to use in experiments for moral reasons."

Well, if there was any silver lining to a Death Eater attack, Ginny was glad to learn that the Unspeakables had found it.

* * *

While she was learning an enormous amount at her apprenticeship, Ginny felt she was learning just as much at Wrightman's dinners as the professor continued to have interesting and renowned guests drop by almost daily. While her father knew many people in the Ministry and often had them over, Mrs. Weasley had always sent the kids up to bed when the "adult" discussions began. Wrightman felt no need to send her children (or Ginny) away, so Ginny learned about the inner machinations of both the English and French Ministries.

And when the other Unspeakables came to dinner, Ginny finally had a chance to really talk about all of the information that she was absorbing with people who seemed to care about it all as much as she did. They made the work of the other Departments (even the Games and Sports Division) pale in comparison, though Ginny thought it would be rather funny to witness a dinner at the Wrightman residence that involved Ludo Bagman.

One night, Ginny was in the sitting room listening to Juliette practice the piano before dinner. They were both wearing their dress robes already. Demetrius sat on the sofa reading a book. Ginny admired their concentration.

Ginny stood and walked over to Demetrius, sitting next to him and waiting for him to look up, which he did rather quickly. He had his mother's blue eyes, but dark hair that probably came from his father, whom Ginny still had not met.

"What are you reading?" Ginny asked.

"Treasure Island," the boy replied, closing his book to show Ginny the cover, but keeping his page with his finger.

"I read that when I was your age," Ginny said excitedly. She had been expecting him to be reading something non-fiction and terribly boring. "Do you like it?"

He nodded. "It's really good. Madame Ortez told me it was. Jim Hawkins meets all these pirates. It's really exciting." He smiled. "Dr. Livesey and John Trelawney remind me of some of my dad's friends."

They were the aristocracy in the book, if Ginny remembered correctly, so that seemed natural. Ginny and Demetrius talked about the book for a long time, until she slipped up and talked about a couple of things that he hadn't read yet. Then he politely told her that he'd rather not be spoiled and went back to his book. He spoke flawless English. When Ginny first met him he'd been speaking French with a house-elf and she'd been concerned that she wouldn't be able to talk to either of Professor Wrightman's children, but he'd quickly proven that being bilingual was the least of his talents.

Juliette, meanwhile, had finished her first piece and was quietly putting her hair in a plait for dinner.

"Do you practice every day?" Ginny asked, pointing to the piano. She knew the girl had practiced while she was there, but since starting work at the Department of Mysteries, she'd had to work really late hours and occasionally the children were already in bed when they came home.

"Yes." Juliette finished her plait and tied her hair with a ribbon. "Also calligraphy and drawing, and I'm starting to learn chess."

"My brother's good at chess," Ginny said.

Juliette twisted on the bench to look directly at Ginny. "How good?"

Ginny couldn't help but grin. "He hasn't lost in years."

Her eyes widened. "Wow. That's good."

She looked like she wanted to ask to play him, but thought it was rude.

"If he ever visits, I'm sure he'd love to play you," Ginny said. "He always wants to play people who might be a challenge and I'm sure you're very good."

Juliette smiled. "I'd like very much to play him, thank you."

Ginny couldn't help it. Sitting there in her tailored blue dress robes in that exquisite room with that beautiful grand piano beside her, a fresco on the ceiling and a chandelier hanging delicately in the middle of the room, she laughed. Juliette looked unsettled by her outburst.

"Sorry," Ginny said, still smiling. "It's just… don't you ever tire of being so polite? You're just a kid."

Juliette regarded her curiously. "I don't know what you mean."

Ginny opened her mouth to explain about the differences between her house and this one, but closed it again when she realized that Juliette would probably think the Burrow was a horribly loud and unsettling place. It made her feel a bit homesick.

"Sorry. My house is just very different than this."

"Oh." Juliette thought about that for a moment. "How different?"

"I have six brothers, for one thing."

Juliette's eyes widened. "That's a lot."

Ginny grinned. "Yeah. We have enough people for our own Quidditch team. With one reserve."

"We own a Quidditch team. The Quiberon Quafflepunchers," Juliette said eagerly, as if it were quite the same thing to have enough siblings for a team and own one of the best teams in France. "Mum hates their uniforms; they're bright pink. But everyone says they're traditional. The captain threatened to quit if they were changed. And he's a boy."

Ginny had known the Wrightmans owned a decent team in the league a number of years ago, but they'd sold them in the early eighties. It was probably because Wrightman's husband owned the Quafflepunchers. It would have been a conflict of interest for one family to own two teams, and the family lived in France, so it made sense that they kept the local club.

Ginny had to admit that the idea of seeing a Quafflepunchers match from the owners box sometime that summer really excited her, even if it was just a pre-season match. She would ask Wrightman about that as soon as possible.

"And are they your favorite team?" Ginny asked. Juliette nodded, music forgotten.

"The chasers came to my birthday party last year and brought me a signed Retro." Juliette obviously thought it was just about the greatest birthday present a little girl could ever receive. Ginny had to agree, and not just because she herself had been given a Retro, but also because she was a Quidditch fan just like the next witch and could appreciate a real collectors item.

"Have you ridden it yet?"

Juliette shook her head. "Papa said I had to keep it in a case until I received proper flying lessons, which won't be until I'm ten." It was only another year, but Ginny completely understood the girl's sadness.

A house-elf appeared in the doorway, telling them all that dinner was ready. It was probably for the best. Ginny didn't think she could resist teaching the girl how to break her Retro out of its case and have a miniature lesson. She might start teaching her a few things anyway, if Gertrude agreed and if they could find a slower broom for her to work with. An old Cleansweep, maybe, which was what Ginny had learned on.

Dinner was served in the second dining room that night, as it usually was. The main dining room had a table that could fit twenty, and though it could magically adjust to fit fewer, the room felt too big for a smaller crowd.

Ginny had learned the Translation Charm well enough that she did it silently the moment she realized the guests were not English. After the initial introductions, the guests switched to English to ask her a question and smiled with delight when they heard her Translated response. One woman was so pleased with Ginny's foresight that she asked Ginny if her plans after finishing school involved traveling abroad.

"I'm still not sure," Ginny replied, glancing at the delicious looking meal that had just appeared in front of them. The vegetables were always so precisely cut that Ginny was sure they'd used a real knife instead of a spell, which any potions student will tell you cut rather haphazardly. "My older brothers work abroad, though, so it's always been a possibility."

The woman's eyes lit up even as she picked up her fork to begin eating, prompting Ginny to do the same. "What do your brothers do?"

"My oldest brother works for Gringotts, and my second oldest brother is a dragon tamer in Romania," Ginny said, taking a bite of carrots. Just as delicious as always. Her mother was an excellent cook, and Ginny would never like anything quite so well as her mother's spaghetti, but eating at Wrightman's always felt like they were at a restaurant.

"Does your brother work for Gringotts in England?"

"No, actually. In Egypt." Ginny loved talking about her brothers.

It turned out the woman was the Minister of Finance for the French Ministry of Magic and had done a lot of business with Gringotts. She'd talked about their protocols, and Ginny had laughed and said her brother wasn't very likely to follow them as a Curse Breaker.

"A curse breaker?" Now the woman seemed ready to leap out of her seat with excitement. "Is your brother, by any chance, much older than you?"

"Yes, he is actually. Eleven years," Ginny said, curious how she could have guessed that.

"He wouldn't be William Weasley, would he?"

Ginny said he was, and asked how she could have known that. It turned out that the woman employed the girl that Bill was currently dating, Fleur Delacour. They'd become close when Fleur had been sent to Egypt to check on French ventures in local branches. Gringotts had insisted on assigning a guide for her, and Bill had been sent.

"You mean Fleur Delacour the Tri-wizard champion?" Ginny asked, blown away by this story. "I didn't know they were dating."

"Yes. That's her. First female champion in two-hundred years."

The woman's husband, who worked on a committee of some kind with Wrightman's husband, chatted with her all night. It was one of the most interesting dinners Ginny had had at the Wrightman house as she learned about the way budgets were voted on in the French Ministry. Like all of Wrightman's guests, Madame Unwin was a fascinating, gracious woman with a lot of experience who obviously had a lot of power in her Ministry.

"As always, Gertrude, your home was lovely and we had a delightful time," Unwin said, inclining her head to the hostess as she and her husband were leaving.

"Yes, Gertrude, and please let your husband know we are eager for his return. There are a lot of issues that he could help with," Monsieur Unwin said.

Gertrude nodded. "I'm sure he's equally anxious to resolve those issues."

Then, just as Ginny thought they were going to activate their Portkey to leave, Mme. Unwin turned to her with a pleasant smile and said, "And, Miss Weasley, if you ever decide that you are tired of trying to unravel the mysteries of the universe in England, feel free to owl me. The Finance Department could always use a hardworking girl with a good head on her shoulders."

"I'm enjoying my work, but thanks for the offer," Ginny said, grinning.

"It is my pleasure. You were a wonderful conversation partner tonight."

"Thank you," Ginny said again. "I had a nice time talking to you. I'll have to tell my brother about meeting you the next time I see him."

"Please do."

After they left, Gertrude Wrightman sat back down in her chair at the table, a glass of red wine in her right hand as her left rested in her lap. Only Ginny remained at the table; the children had been taken up to bed by their house-elves.

"They were nice," Ginny said, idly taking a bite of an extra piece of cake Shenny had brought her. Her personal house-elf always did thoughtful things like that, and Ginny was really quite attached to him. Wrightman took a sip of her wine, and set the glass gently down on the cleared table.

"When Bill first went to work for Gringotts," Ginny went on, "Mum nearly killed him. She said working for Goblins wasn't what a Headboy should be doing. Then he told her the job was in Egypt, and she burst into tears." It had been an unhappy day at the Burrow. Mr. Weasley had come home early from a long day just to console his wife. "It was the first time I remember my dad telling my mum that she needed to accept the fact that Voldemort was gone, and that her kids would be safe on their own."

Ginny and Ron had hidden together in the broomshed, pretending like they couldn't hear their mum crying. Percy was the one that found them and told them it would all be okay, that they could come out.

"But then Mum started ranting about how there were still serial killers like Sirius Black on the loose," Ginny said, though she didn't know what compelled her. She suspected that most people her age had grown up hearing about Sirius Black as a figure from nightmares, a horror story older brothers used to scare you.

"I take it that the first time you met Sirius was interesting," Wrightman said, fingers skimming the delicate glass.

"I wasn't there when my mum met him, but Ron said she screamed like a banshee. She still flinched when she brought me to his house later that year, though."

"And you?"

Ginny had been fascinated by the chance to meet him, actually. At the time, she'd thought that he represented what she would have become had Harry not found that diary: a prisoner of Azkaban.

"Sirius from the start was imposing and larger-than-life," Ginny began, noticing the beautiful yellow gem set in Wrightman's gold wedding band. "He fought with my mum a lot, listened to me, and loved Harry fiercely."

"He was always fierce about his loyalties," Gertrude said, running her nail across the tablecloth. "Much as he hated it, he was a Black even at the end."

"Yes, he did hate it," Ginny said, remembering the angry way Sirius lived his life in that house. He recklessly threw away heirlooms, pictures, paintings. He wanted none of the legacy he'd inherited. "Does Andromeda?"

"Does Mrs. Tonks what?" Gertrude asked with the subtle reminder to use proper respect when talking about someone's elder.

"Does Mrs. Tonks hate being a Black? Hate her sister?" Ginny asked, scooting forward on her seat to be closer to the woman across from her.

"Could you imagine hating your brothers?"

"No," she said. Then thought a bit. "I mean, I came close with Percy because he's being a moron, but he's still my brother."

"And he still would be if he married a Death Eater or joined the Death Eaters himself. Even if he hated you," Wrightman said, folding her hands on the table. "Could you hate him them?"

"He wouldn't do that," Ginny said instantly. Wrightman gave her a hard look, and Ginny relented. "Well, okay. Hypothetically, if my brother were to lose his mind and make an idiotic decision that even Percy would never make, I suppose I might find it a bit easier to hate him. Maybe."

"You wouldn't hate him," Wrightman said, "because your parents raised you well, and you know that you owe your family loyalty."

Shenny popped in to collect Ginny's empty plate and silverware, asking if she would like anything else. She asked for tea, and he popped back out.

"Tomorrow night, I've invited the Notts over for dinner," Wrightman announced.

"The Notts?" Ginny asked, surprised. Her professor had seen Theo's father when he'd attacked her home at the end of the year, had seen him set up the wards that his son destroyed. Ginny wondered if there was possibly a different Nott family that Wrightman had meant.

Wrightman nodded. Sitting beside the large clear windows that overlooked the balcony, with the sky and mountains in the background, she looked like the picture of a queen.

"Yes. Theodore Nott and his mother."

"Oh!" Ginny said, surprised and delighted. She would love to see her friend. Shenny popped in and put the tea in front of Ginny, sugar and cream on the side. "That'll be great."

Wrightman looked rather pleased with herself. "I thought you might like that."

"I do. But—not to be rude, and I am excited to see him—but after everything his father did, I'm just surprised," Ginny said, curiosity eating at her.

"No one has the right to question a guest I've invited to my own home," Wrightman chided. Ginny rubbed a finger against the tablecloth and leaned back in her seat. "But I do not punish children for the sins of their parents."

Ginny remembered Theo's conversation with Harry, and the way he talked about how an association with Harry Potter deeply irritated his father and unsettled his mother, leading to lots of wine at family dinners. Ginny couldn't help but wonder if his mother would be comfortable sitting next to Ginny all night, knowing that she was close to Harry and that she had shot spells at her husband the night of the Seventh Year Ball.

"You were in the same year as his mum, weren't you?" Ginny asked, realizing it a second before she asked. Wrightman nodded. "Samantha Caldwell, right? Theo"—she tried to think of a delicate way of putting this—"never spoke very highly of her."

"Mrs. Nott was in my year," Wrightman said, picking up her glass, though she did not take a sip. She avoided sounding judgmental.

"She was in Gryffindor, though, right?" Ginny asked, finally taking the time to add one spoonful of sugar and a lot of cream to her tea before taking a sip. It warmed her.

"Yes, though her son is a perfect Slytherin," she said.

"I think he'd appreciate hearing you say that," Ginny said, smiling.

Wrightman waved a hand casually. "He knows it himself."

"But he respects you. All the Slytherins do. All the students, too, really," Ginny said, thinking of the numerous adults she'd known all her life whom she didn't respect. Perkins was at the top of that list, but Mum's Hogwarts friend Clarissa was a close second. The woman was a moron.

"They respect me because I am the head of the Wrightman family and my children represent the unification of my family with the de Boeldeius."

"People respect you regardless of name," Ginny pointed out. "Look at Hermione and Harry. Neither of them had ever heard of the Wrightmans, but they both learned to accept you. Though Hermione did look like she was a bit harassed at the end of the year. It drove her spare that you didn't adore her."

"I respect her. That ought to have been enough." Wrightman said. "She's a powerful, capable witch who will go far if she doesn't die."

"Well, of course there's always that caveat," Ginny said.

"For your generation," Wrightman said, "and especially the best friend of Harry Potter, death must always be considered, if not expected."

Ginny decided not to say anything. Yes, she knew that dying was always a possibility; it was Harry's biggest fear, but that didn't mean that she would let herself worry about it needlessly. All she could do was prepare for the future as best she could and hope that it was enough.

A house-elf appeared, refilled Wrightman's wine glass, and disappeared just as quickly.

"I've been wondering about something, professor," Ginny said at length. "At the Ball when you were talking to Lucius Malfoy, you told him that Baron's parents' deaths were a mistake. What did you mean?"

Wrightman looked at her wine for a long time. "Their deaths were a mistake."

"How do you know?"

"The Ramsey deaths catapulted a strong Slytherin family toward Dumbledore's side. Lucius Malfoy was sent to smooth things over with them, but young Mr. Ramsey and his sister rejected his overtures. It was a loss the Dark Lord would not have wanted, especially as the Ramseys were always so carefully neutral." Wrightman's face took an odd look. "But neutrality never really protected anyone, as Christine once told me."

Ginny thought she'd heard her mention that name before, but couldn't place it. "Christine?"

"Your friend Mr. McGrath's mother, who hated neutrality with a passion people rarely saw in her," Wrightman said. The half moon could be seen over her shoulder through the window. "She and Lily both hated people who thought they could simply avoid fighting."

Ginny tapped her finger against her teacup gently. "Mrs. Merton acted like she knew them well. Of course, Remus looked like he thought she reeked of something foul, but I thought it was those werewolf senses of his."

Wrightman shook her head wryly. "Mrs. Merton and I were never particularly close. She thought I was a Death Eater, and I thought she was weak."

"All I know about her is that she ran away and doesn't regret it," Ginny said, thinking back to the woman's ill-received trip to Hogwarts. Mrs. Merton had been the first female Beater. A legend. And for all of her reputation, she had proven to be nothing more than a menace. Remembering the way she told Mr. McGrath to keep his sons away from Ginny made the redhead want to smash something. She took a breath and moved her hands away from the china teacup. "And I know that I only met her for less than a single day, but I wanted to banish her off the Astronomy Tower."

Wrightman smiled that close-lipped, predatory smile. "She regrets her decision every day."

Since she was meeting the woman the next night, Ginny couldn't help but ask, "Does Theo's mum regret anything?"

Wrightman swiped her hand over her perfectly clean tablecloth as through to rid it of crumbs or wrinkles. "I believe Mrs. Nott hates her situation even more than Mrs. Merton hates hers, and I believe she feels even more trapped than her old friend."

"She chose to marry that Death Eater," Ginny said simply, "and she continues to choose to stay with him."

Wrightman adjusted twisted his wine glass by its stem, and gold sparkles fell from the cup only to disappear moments later.

"It's the old fashioned kind of trapped feeling," Wrightman said. "Ask your mother about it someday and about how difficult it was to marry your father."

"She's told me about that." Ginny had heard the family stories about her grandparents' disapproval of the marriage, and how her mother's brothers had been sent to see what Arthur was really like. They'd liked him instantly and supported their sister's choice from then on.

Ginny turned to stare at the piano in the other room through the open doorway. It was beautifully carved and decorated. And the music that Juliette created when her little fingers played did it justice. Thinking of that made Ginny remember her conversation with Gertrude's daughter.

"Your children don't seem to feel trapped," Ginny said.

Professor Wrightman also looked at the piano. "I've worked hard at that."

Ginny considered her professor for a moment.

"You know, Professor, I still don't understand why you were friends with Harry's mum," Ginny said, feeling very daring for bringing this up, but they had talked about Sirius and Christine McGrath and Mrs. Merton and Mrs. Nott. Lily Evans seemed like a natural progression. "You were, I imagine, a Slytherin princess, and she sounds like she was a poster girl for Gryffindor."

"We were both prefects," Wrightman said.

"Devon's a prefect, but I doubt she'll be talking about any of her fellow prefects in twenty years, let have an office covered in photos of them."

Wrightman paused for a long moment, setting down her glass before she began replying. "She was a smart, driven girl of sixteen, outspoken in her convictions, and I had decided that she could never have acted in private as she did in public."

"Why not?" Ginny had to ask. "Most people aren't secretive."

"You are," Wrightman pointed out.

"Well, yes," Ginny admitted, "but that's because I'm deeply scared by the traumatizing event of a Dark Lord possessing my eleven-year old body."

Gertrude smirked. "You say it like that to unsettle people, don't you?"

"I figure I ought to be able to get something positive out of the situation," Ginny replied, smiling

"Yes, well, Lily Evans wasn't anything like I expected her to be either," Gertrude Wrightman said, smiling softly again. "She was better."

Her voice grew soft and her eyes drifted back to her wine glass. It was the most vulnerable Ginny had ever seen her look. And the saddest too. She obviously missed her friend a great deal.

Then Wrightman sat up properly, wrapped her fingers around the stem of her wine glass, and looked at Ginny as she said, "But it wouldn't do to linger on the memory of dead, old friends. Sirius, Lily, and Christine are gone. It would only make me sad once again and slow the work I am trying to do."

They went to bed shortly thereafter.

* * *

The knowledge that she was seeing Theo that night should probably have made the next day at work feel like History of Magic, but work at the DoM was never boring. The department often had to work backward: They would make a hypothesis, test it, have it fail, and then have to figure out exactly what failed. Or, if they were proven correct, they needed to discover how that particular piece of information related to a larger question they had.

And when they succeeded, Ginny normally had the task of recording the whole thing and then telling the other relevant Unspeakables about the discovery.

So when Melissa Kraus made an unexpected discovery in the Time room near the end of the day, it should have fallen to Ginny to collect everyone. Instead, Melissa had turned to her in a fit of excitement and said, "Let's try it again wandlessly. Can you cast the spell?"

Surprised, Ginny asked, "Excuse me?"

Like the Space room, the Time room had been working to find ways to slow an object's fall. Instead of playing with the magic of gravity, they were working on activating a self-activating time-slowing charm that would recognize when a delicate object was falling. They had bets within the department on which room would reach their goal more quickly, and most thought that Kraus and her team were currently in the lead.

The competition was friendly: often the Time room team would charm condolence letters to the Planet room's door, saying they'd traveled forward in time and knew they were winning; the Planet room responded by painting the Time room doors with moving pictures of the party they would throw after they won. Ginny found the whole thing hilarious, especially since her first day in the glittery Time room, a team member had looked up with a grin and said, "Ah. Our spy arrives at last."

They loved to tease her about having been in enemy territory, and lunch often included moments when they'd call over to a Planet member that they had a secret weapon as they wrapped an arm around Ginny's shoulders.

"You see, time, unlike space, is limitless," a particularly enthusiastic teammate once said. "There are no laws that require time to move forward. We are merely unable to comprehend the possibilities of—"

"Oh Merlin, Charlie, you're boring the poor girl to death, and she's already had a turn at the Death room," a Time-room Unspeakable called out across the cafeteria.

Fred and George would have adored the Time team.

That particular day found Ginny shooting off a list of O.W.L. level spells in the Time room for one of Kraus's experiments. The leader insisted Ginny do them all wandlessly, which was fine with her. But after the list was done, they'd asked her if she'd learned any of the advanced time spells, like those used to create a Time-turner. She hadn't, so they spent a while teaching her some of them and had her cast them as well.

"Sorry that today's so boring for you," Unspeakable West said as he jotted down some notes. "We needed all of this to be wandless to ensure that the core of a wand didn't affect the data. You should have seen the fallout when we realized that a unicorn-tail wand typically weakens a dieus charm. Allen had Ollivander make us all a copy of the spells affected by the wand cores, with detailed changes. Longest scroll of parchment ever; we rolled the whole thing out and it went from the spinning room, through this one, all the way to the Hall of Prophecy. So just using wandless magic really helps us out."

"Too bad Allen's the only one that can do it besides Ginny," another Unspeakable said.

"Who knows, maybe Ginny'll have pity on us and come work here full time after she leaves school," Kraus said, looking up at her from his work just long enough to grin.

"She's much too smart to work here," West said, glancing at the note-taking quill. "She'll probably go into private research."

"Or work at her brothers' wonderful shop."

"What shop?" West asked.

"Weasley's Wizard Weezes," Kraus said, giving West a surprised look. "You didn't know?"

West's eyes lit up as he completely forgot about the notes. "So your whole family's brilliant?"

Ginny smiled and shrugged. "We're creative, at least."

"We used a pair of Extendable Ears the other day on the Planet Room," West said. "Very useful, those things."

"Don't forget the skiving snackoxes," Kraus said. "I sent my nephew an entire shipment of them. Wished they'd been around when I had to endure Care of Magical Creatures. The professor kept losing limbs!"

Ginny laughed, but soon they were all focusing on work again, making adjustments and notations.

The day passed quickly, despite the anticipation of seeing her friend, and soon she found herself at Wrightman's hugging Theo hello. Seeing him was all sorts of wonderful. She hadn't really realized how much she missed people her age until she actually saw him standing in the morning room of the Wrightman mansion that afternoon.

"You look well," Theo said, stepping back and appearing to check her for any signs of sickness. It took a moment for Ginny to realize that he hadn't seen her since he'd been forced to leave the Ball, and she hadn't been able to write him. He must have heard she was okay, but as she was now realizing looking at him, seeing a person is much more comforting than hearing a second-hand report.

"You too."

He grinned. "Thanks."

"Your mum's not here?" Ginny asked, looking around. Her personal house-elf had told her that her friend had arrived, but hadn't mentioned anything about his family.

Theo shrugged. He looked tan. "I guess not, but she might be coming later. I'm not currently living with her."

"What?"

He leaned against the arm of the tan couch. "I told my mum about seeing my father at the Ball. She didn't leave him. We argued about that a bit, then I moved in with my uncle Chad."

Ginny remembered seeing her friend racing up to the wards, yelling at his father, being spirited away. He must have had a pretty awful time of it, and she hadn't even been able to write him.

"I'm sorry."

He shrugged. "It's fine. Devon visits, and my uncle and Will—Andrew's uncle, you met him at the Quidditch final—have been good, though they tease me quite a bit."

"Tease you about what?" Ginny asked, but he didn't have time to respond before Professor Wrightman walked in, heels sinking in the deep carpet.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Nott."

Theo inclined his head. "Thank you for having me, professor."

"Miss Weasley was starting to look rather desperate for peer interaction," Wrightman said calmly. Ginny felt only mildly bad for how true that statement was. Not that she didn't love the people in the DoM, but they were rather older than she. Of course, she really wanted to see a black haired bespectacled bloke with green eyes, but seeing one of her very good friends was a really nice substitute. Now if only she could get in touch with her family, the Kernel, and Andy, her life would really be perfect.

"I heard Mrs. McGrath had her baby," Wrightman said, gesturing that they ought to follow her into the other room. Ginny, who had been thinking about her friend, faltered momentarily to understand that Wrightman wasn't talking about Andy's deceased mother, but rather his uncle Will's wife, Colleen.

Theo smiled. "Yes. Elizabeth Christine was born a couple of weeks ago."

Wrightman stopped walking briefly, but since she was ahead of them, all Ginny saw was the tightening of the muscles in the older woman's back. The professor quickly shook off the emotion, and kept walking, saying, "Please convey my congratulations."

They made their way to the dining room, Ginny catching up with Theo. Unfortunately, she couldn't exactly tell him what she'd been doing at work, but she found the various guests who had flitted through the Wrightman house were more than enough fodder for conversation. He seemed especially interested in the head of the French Finance Department, which surprised Ginny. But it wasn't until dinner was cleared away and dessert was served that she received the biggest shock of the day.

"You didn't happen to read the Prophet today, did you?" Theo asked, spoon out healthy portions of the sorbet piled into his crystal cup.

"No, why?" Ginny asked, poking through the surface of her crème Brule. Dessert at Wrightman's never failed to be awesome.

"The front page article highlighted tips on how to survive wartime conflicts without being paranoid," Theo said, taking another bite. "And there were two articles about the French support of Auror movements, and a recant of an earlier article that dragged Dumbledore through the dirt."

"That's a change," Ginny said curiously. "I wonder what happened."

"I bought it," Wrightman said, pouring some tea into her cup. She always passed up dessert. Theo and Ginny stopped eating, waited a beat, and then looked at Gertrude.

Ginny asked, "You bought the Daily Prophet?"

"Yes," Gertrude said, taking a sip.

After around two months in this house, Ginny was rarely surprised by Wrightman's actions, but this seemed so sudden. "Why?"

"I had a long-standing agreement with the paper that my name would not be mentioned without my consent, and it came to my attention that a certain editor didn't plan to respect our agreement."

"When was this?" Theo asked.

"Two days ago."

Ginny and Theo looked at each other, Ginny wanting someone to share her shock, Theo because he was surprised not to have known this information already.

"Did you fire Rita Skeeter?" Ginny asked, trying to think of a normal question to ask.

"No," Gertrude said, "I reassigned her to fashion and trends for a considerable increase in pay."

"Why not just get rid of her altogether?" Ginny asked.

Gertrude gave Ginny a look and said, "Because then she would go write for Witch Weekly. With the increase in pay, I am able to require enough work from her that she has no opportunity to freelance."

"Besides, Skeeter's not even the worst," Theo said. "At least she thinks she's letting the minorities have a voice. Some of the others are just malicious."

Remembering what she had written about Hermione and Hagrid, Ginny was rather inclined to label Skeeter malicious, too.

"For that reason, I'll be having the publishers of the Quibbler, Witch Weekly, and some other publications in France and England to dinner tomorrow night," Gertrude said.

"The Quibbler?" Ginny asked, excited. "Does that mean I'm going to meet Luna's dad?"

Wrightman's face changed for a moment, but whatever emotion she wanted to express was quickly hidden. "Yes."

Ginny couldn't wait. "They live right near us in Ottery St. Catchpole, but I've never actually met him."

"Mr. Lovegood is… enthusiastic," Theo said, surprising Ginny.

"When did you meet him?"

After thinking for a moment, Theo said, "The first time was probably at his wife's funeral."

Ginny and Luna had talked about her mother's death, but Ginny knew practically nothing about the woman. "Why were you there? Did you know her?"

"She was a Knowles."

"The Old Family Knowles?" Ginny asked, realizing after she said it that she sounded rather pretentious, but since it was a valid question she kept from laughing at her own expense.

Theo tapped his little spoon against the glass dessert cup, thinking. "Yes, Luna's mother's cousin is the head of the family, if I'm remembering correctly."

"You are," Wrightman confirmed with a quick nod.

Ginny blinked. "I would have never guessed."

"Miss Lovegood cares not at all for her title. Nor for the influence of her name," Wrightman said, sounding rather exasperated, making Ginny smile.

"No, Luna wouldn't care about that," Ginny said certainly. "Unless they knew anything about the invisible bears that live in Gloucester."

"That girl is frightfully weird," Theo said, earning him a smack on the arm from Ginny.

* * *

About a week after her relaxing dinner with Theo, Ginny received a summons from Department Head Allen asking her to report to Allen's office at the end of the day.

"Oh! Ginny's in trouble," a Time Unspeakable said, spotting the note as he walked past. But as Ginny thought about the possible reasons why she would be asked to have a meeting with the Department Head, reprimand seemed less and less likely. Still, Ginny couldn't help but feel a little afraid as she knocked on Allen's door that afternoon.

"You may enter," the door said in a rather respectful tone.

Ginny was curious about the office of the head of the Unspeakables, but at first she was rather disappointed by the results. It looked a lot like her dad's office, except without the clutter: clean lines, neat desk, a book self with hundreds of books, a certificate of excellence on the wall. Oh! An Order of Merlin, second class, on the desk. Ginny could barely keep herself from staring at the glittering silver statuette. She'd only seen one like it, and that had been the one Gilderoy Lockheart had worn practically as a tie her entire first year. Department Head Allen used hers as a paperweight.

"Good evening, Miss Weasley," Allen said, nodding at the seat on the other side of the desk. Ginny took the hint and sat. "How do you feel things have been going for you here?"

"Really well," Ginny said, folding her hands on her lap only to notice a large smudge of green across one of them. She tried to surreptitiously rub it away. "It's been challenging and fun."

"Fun?" repeated he elderly witch. Her brown eyes peered out at Ginny from under the wrinkles the folded up her face.

"Oh, yes," Ginny said, surprised that Allen might not consider this work fun. "Working to discover exactly why time only moves forward when every spell and calculation we do indicates that it should flow in either direction, is fascinating. Playing with the one unbroken Time-turner has been an experience I'll never forget, though that might also be because of the practical application of learning how to freeze a larger expanse of time and seeing how the room and the surround areas react to the change. I'd never thought to even wonder why time and gravity effect both magical and non-magical people indiscriminately. This work has taught me to think about every day actions in completely new ways. And working in the Thoughts room to determine the sequence of triggers required to make a thought skip certain default paths has also been fascinating."

Allen nodded while Ginny felt a bit foolish for babbling on too long.

"Did you read about the history of the Department, as you said you would like to?"

Ginny nodded. "Yes, and the notes about how exactly they broke down the mysteries and chose which ones would connect to the other rooms were very detailed."

"You found them useful, I suppose?"

Again, Ginny found herself going on for a long amount of time about the ways that learning the process of channeling love and a scale model of the solar system changed her outlook on the processes involved in keeping the department and room intact.

"The doors leading to all the rooms are identical, which I hadn't known, but which led me to realize why Professor Wrightman spent so much time in the spinning room with the doors. If they all have the same basic properties, it makes sense that studying the differences between them would give indications to some of the unique properties of the item in the room," Ginny finished.

"You have also studied the history of this department? Our policies?"

Ginny nodded and tried to keep the accusation out of her voice as she said, "I always thought that Unspeakables were traditionally neutral, so I was surprised to learn that you hired Death Eaters knowingly."

"The outside world cannot be allowed to stop the work we do here," Allen said softly. "Wars come and go. Strong men, both good and bad, rise to power. Sometimes they rule. Sometimes people fight them." Allen's eyes lingered on her Order of Merlin. "But the Department of Mysteries, like Hogwarts School and Ollivander's Wand Shop, must keep working. We hire based on skill alone. Not personality, power, or beliefs."

Ginny had talked about this at length with Wrightman, and while she did not agree that the department needed to hire Death Eaters to ensure their continued existence, she was willing to admit that she wasn't qualified to make that decision for the department. Amelia Allen was. So Ginny let her eyes wander back to the Order of Merlin and noticed the inscription along the bottom: Est Completus Numquam Labor Boni.

"If you are done examining my office, I would like to discuss your situation," Allen said, eyebrows raised. Ginny blushed and sat up straighter.

"Sorry."

Allen nodded. "Unspeakable Wrightman has told you part of the reason why you were chosen to work here for these months?"

"Oh," Ginny said, nodding. "Yes. Professor Wrightman explained to me that part of the reason why I was here was so that you all could study me. I thought this meeting might be about that."

"It is." Allen's hair was tied back in a loose, professional bun.

Ginny took a breath. "This has been such a great experience, it'll be nice to give something back."

"I appreciate your sentiment."

Ginny waited a beat. "When will the first experiment be?"

Allen seemed amused, and said, "There will be no experiments on you."

"Oh. I thought—I guess I thought you'd need to test me somehow."

Allen folded her ancient hands on the table. "We have been watching you during your stay here."

Ginny was a bit confused. "But I thought..."

"You've work in all the rooms. We observed. We learned what we needed to." Allen smiled. "I called you in to talk about the results."

Now Ginny was nervous.

The moment she heard the results, however, she decided never to mention them to anyone. And Allen promised to keep them secret as well.

* * *

Ginny was in the sitting room near the entrance hall in Wrightman's house a couple of days after her meeting with Director Allen when a crack resounded through the room, signaling the arrival of someone through Apparation. As far as Ginny knew, no one except Gertrude had the ability to Apparate inside the actual house, so she was rather surprised when she turned around and saw a man where she expected to see her Defense Professor.

She stood up quickly, pulling out her wand and prepared to fight him if it became necessary.

The man surprised her by raising a hand and wordlessly and wandlessly yanking her wand from her hand. "It is not polite, Mademoiselle Weasley, to point your wand at people."

Pim popped into the room. Small, older, and terribly loyal, Pim was the 'head' house-elf, if such a position existed. The elf bowed deeply and said, "Master," as he took the stranger's traveling cloak and hat while handing him two sealed envelopes.

"Please inform Madame Wrightman that I have arrived," the man said. From the tingling sensation in the inside of her ears, Ginny knew that he was speaking French and her Translation Spell was working. He wore tailored black robes with gold buttons, shiny black shoes, a gold pocket watch, and rectangular black-rimmed glasses. She also now knew who this man was.

"Mr. Wrightman?" she asked.

"Monsieur de Boeldieu," he corrected, glancing up from unrolling the parchment. Of course Wrightman was the professor's maiden name if she was the head of that family. And of course she had married a man who valued his family just as highly. So that was the exact wrong thing to say. Way to make a first impression, Ginny.

"I'm sorry about pointing my wand at you. Ever since the Ball, unexpected Apparations make me wary."

He looked unaffected by her apology and explanation, but he did walk forward and twirl her wand in his fingers, presenting her with the handle as he said, "My guests do not expect to face a wand when they enter my home."

"I know. I am sorry," she said, taking her wand. Ginny had, in fact, received a rather long list of things not to do around guests from Professor Wrightman. Well, not an actual list, but more of a series of verbal cues. Even if she hadn't, basic rules of courtesy would suggest that pointing your wand at someone who just arrived at a house that wasn't yours didn't seem like a very good idea. Mrs. Weasley would have really let Ginny have it for that. But these were dangerous times.

Gertrude Wrightman walked into the sitting room, looking just as regal and put together as always. She walked straight to her husband and kissed him briefly before they embraced. There was a sense of relief at their reunion that shocked Ginny. Her teacher had never looked more tired than she did in his arms; it was as if she could finally show her fatigue because she trusted him to support her. In return, he gave off a sense of strength that Gertrude seemed to absorb. They reminded Ginny, in a much quieter way, of her parents the day Arthur Weasley had returned from inspecting Azkaban all those years ago. Except Gertrude wasn't fussing or cooking. Instead, she just gratefully held him in her thin arms and he returned the gesture firmly.

It was clearly a private moment, so Ginny began gathering all of her notes in order to leave the room and not bother them.

"You're home early," Gertrude said into his shoulder.

"As soon as I could be," he replied. They spoke in French.

When they split, both looked more resolved, and Gertrude asked, "Did you really believe I needed a house-elf to tell me of your arrival?"

He looked down at her and smiled lightly. "No, but Pim likes specific instruction."

Wrightman smiled then—a big smile Ginny had never seen—and said, "It's good to have you home."

He took her hand. "It's good to be home."

* * *

Dinner that night was a family affair—one of the few times when no one came to visit—but the food was just as lavish as always (probably better; the house-elves doted on Mon. de Boeldieu).

"Things at the Daily Prophet are still going well?" Monsieur de Boeldieu asked his wife as they ate salads.

Professor Wrightman glanced at him and smirked. "Very."

He took a sip of his wine. "I hope you realize that I expect to see fewer articles denouncing the French trade commission and lax Portkey security procedures."

"And I expect to have less difficulty procuring marble from Italy through traditionally French-owned trade routes," Gertrude replied, rising an eyebrow.

It was his turn to smirk. "Have you had problems recently?"

"Have you seen any articles with negative feeling in that time?"

He tipped his head in acknowledgement, but noted, "At least I know you'll never slander my family."

"Your mother was in the Fashion section just yesterday," Professor Wrightman replied. "And you know I don't control everything that's printed."

De Boeldieu actually laughed. "Of course you do, dear."

Wrightman tried to hide her satisfaction with that response. "Still, I can't control what your mother wears to public functions."

He smiled. "Your children's grandmother has impeccable taste, doesn't she, children?"

Juliette and Demetrius both insisted that she did. They were practically glowing, one on either side of their father.

"But Auntie Regan wears some awful outfits," Juliette said, making a face.

"We don't talk badly about family, Juliette," de Boeldieu said.

"But remember that yellow thing she wore to Grandmere's 70th birthday party?" Juliette insisted.

Professor Wrightman shuddered a bit and changed the subject, clearly uncomfortable remembering her sister-in-law's awful choices.

Dinner continued with her and her family chatting. Occasionally, she and de Boeldieu would segue into bargaining with each other about something, striking informal deals. And if it weren't for the fact that they were two of the most powerful people in Europe—Ginny was fairly certain they'd renegotiated a major international tariff policy over dessert—Ginny might have said they sparkled at one another as they bantered. The ease and friendliness that both felt was beautiful.

And from the various looks Mon. de Boeldieu shot Ginny's way, she was fairly certain the couple would have a lengthy conversation about her once she'd gone to bed. And while she did feel awful about pointing her wand at him, she couldn't help but remember that she had been attacked in one of his homes. Not that she was foolish enough to bring that up or anything.

"Papa, will you listen to me play now?" Juliette asked the moment the last dish was cleared, obviously just barely restraining her excitement.

De Boeldieu raised an eyebrow. "Have you practiced a new piece?"

Juliette nodded eagerly. It was the most animated Ginny had ever seen her. "For weeks now."

"Then I shall have to hear it," de Boeldieu said firmly as he stood. Demetrius jumped up and followed his father and sister out of the room, leaving Ginny and Wrightman to stare at the ever-lasting candles in the middle of the table. The wax reabsorbed into the candle and the wick grew to replace itself as it burned.

"He's a very nice man," Ginny said, tracing the spirals on the candlesticks with her eyes. "You and he seem really happy."

"You seem surprised," Wrightman said.

Ginny wrenched her eyes away from the centerpieces and looked at her professors even as the house-elves appeared to bring them extra dessert or tea. "I sort of am. I suppose I assumed that Sirius was—I don't know. The love of your life or something."

"He was a good friend and a good match for me when I was a teenager," she said, "but he was also brash and resentful and angry. We might have balanced each other, but when I learned of his betrayal—for in my youthful arrogance, I never doubted that he would be the Potters' Secret Keeper—I turned him from my mind."

"But you didn't marry your husband right after that, did you?" Ginny was so curious to hear about Mon. de Boeldieu now that she had met him.

Gertrude shook her head. "I had other things to attend to."

"How did you meet him?" Ginny asked.

Gertrude looked like she was about to dismiss the question, but then relented and said, "The Department of Mysteries sent me to France on the fifth anniversary of the Dark Lord's fall to enter into negotiations concerning the border guards that had been established during the war. Minister Fudge, who had been appointed that year, wanted to encourage international trade and travel."

She would have been young for that position—twenty-five at most—but with a name like Wrightman, the Ministry must have trusted that she would garner respect.

"And your husband was the diplomat you worked with?"

Gertrude nodded. "He was head of the commission that had been created to hear our argument. After the business was concluded, he had a friend of his, who was also my cousin, introduce us. We married a year later"

"That was fast," Ginny said, smiling at how clear cut and simple their courtship had been. Wrightman nodded. "What about your parents? Didn't they arrange another marriage for you after you were released from the one with Sirius?"

Wrightman's right hand curled into a ball, a small gesture of tension that was almost unnoticeable. "My parents died during the war."

Ginny felt terrible. "I'm sorry. I didn't know."

Wrightman inclined her head. "It was a long time ago, and it was a natural disease, nothing to do with the fighting."

So she had become head of the Wrightman family just as the Blacks were at their height of power, at a time when joining Voldemort had probably seemed like the surest way to protect her family. Yet she had resisted that temptation.

Ginny looked across the room, through the archway to where Mon. de Boeldieu was listening to his daughter play piano while his son sat quietly beside him. She tried to imagine Sirius there and couldn't. The teenagers Ginny had seen in the Pensieve seemed made for one another, but now it was blatantly obvious that Gertrude Wrightman had married the right man, one who challenged her, respected her, laughed when she lied about not controlling her paper thoroughly, had powerful friends, and worked as hard as she did. They were changing the world, the two of them, and not through impulsive choices and rash mistakes, but through carefully calculated maneuvers and trades.

"I wish you'd teach again next year," Ginny said, surprising herself. Wrightman watched her through her clear, aristocratic eyes. "I know that you have important work at the Ministry. But I think you might do more good showing the pureblood students that they can fight Voldemort, too."

Wrightman ran a finger along the base of her glass, but didn't respond.

* * *

Work at the DoM was particularly intense in the last weeks of Ginny's internship as she finished projects, wrote up reports, and continued working in the rooms of her choice. She was really going to miss this place when she left, she realized.

"We could wrap a Time-Turner around her neck and just keep sending her back twelve hours, populate the entire Department with Ginny's in every room. We could accomplish a lot more," a Time Team Member said, grinning.

"Nah. Then she'd help out the other rooms, and who wants that?" another Timer asked joking.

"True. Maybe we should just lock her up inside the office," the first one suggested, but Ginny just laughed and told them that she needed to finish some reports before heading home. She only had a couple more days left.

"At the very least we should throw a party," they muttered as they walked away. Ginny grinned. She was sure it would be one hell of a party.

And it was.

On the last day of her apprenticeship, every Unspeakable piled into the cafeteria where they ate—a floor under the research facilities—and ate pieces of a giant cake decorated by the various departments. It was the ugliest thing she had ever seen, but it tasted good, and Ginny was surrounded by people she enjoyed.

Even Director Allen stopped by for a little bit at the beginning to say goodbye to Ginny and wish her well.

"I expect to see an application from you by the end of the year," she said quietly, and Ginny nearly wanted to cry. It was true that the party was making her emotional in general, but after this summer, she knew that there was nowhere else in the world she could settle for working after experiencing an Unspeakable's work.

"You will. I promise."

The hugs goodbye lasted a long time, and Ginny ended up giving all of the people she worked with thank you notes. It wasn't much, but she had wanted to let them know that they had meant a lot to her.

And so she entered the intra-building Floo network with a bag of shrunken gifts and a lot of very good memories. She even hugged the Floo operator goodbye. It was all rather embarrassing when she later thought back on it.

She was still holding all of the papers she'd wanted (and was allowed) to keep and trying to arrange them in the best order when she walked into the corridor into the Minstry, where she'd have to Floo back to Wrightman's one last time before the school term started.

"Ginny?" asked a familiar voice, and she nearly dropped everything in her hands.

Harry Potter was standing in the corridor wearing black robes over a dark blue shirt, looking very good indeed.

"Harry?" she asked, so surprised that she thought she might be hallucinating. Or the Time Team was playing a very mean prank.

"Hi," he said, smiling at her.

"Hi?" She couldn't really think properly.

"Are you here for your apprenticeship?"

"Yeah. Today was my last day," she said. He didn't seem incapacitated by that shock like she.

"That's nice," he said, watching her closely.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, holding the parchment close.

"Just something with Dumbledore," he said cagily, swiping at his visitor's badge that clearly said, 'Harry Potter; Search and Destroy Mission.'

"But you're really you, right? Not someone Polyjuiced?" she asked, knowing perfectly well that she probably sounded mad.

He smiled. "Ask me something only I would know. Dumbledore says we should do that anyway."

"What was the last thing I said to you?" she asked without thinking, immediately regretting it as she remembered the answer, but unwilling to take it back. Surprisingly, he grinned and stepped forward until they were as close as they had been last time they spoke.

"You told me to throw a party," he whispered, leaning in. "And to either kiss you or let you walk away."

And suddenly he leaned in and they were kissing. His hand was on her back pulling her forward, and her hands were stuck between them, holding the pile of papers. His lips were soft and perfect and moved against her perfectly. Not really wanting to, but having to understand this, she pulled away.

"What's going on?" she asked, a little out of breath.

"I wasn't playing with you before," he said, touching the side of her face lightly.

"Good," she said.

He nodded, and then he kissed her again.


	17. Author's Note

* * *

**Author's Note:**

Thank you all so much for all of your support and dedication to this story. I know that Holden has appreciated all of your feedback as she's written this story. However, I am sad to say that she will not be able to continue writing the story due to real world conflicts. Instead, I will be taking up the reigns. Which I know will disappoint a lot of you, but she really is quite busy right now.

In order to feel comfortable finishing this story, I am going to be rewriting it. But because I respect the work that Holden has done, I am going to also leave this version posted. Instead, of replacing it, I am going to post the rewrite under the title Backfire on this username's author page. Please check out that story for further updates.

If you have any questions, feel free to message me or join the Yahoo! Group listed on the author's page for notices and discussions with other readers. You could even start a poll, if you wanted.

Hope you stick around through the changes, and sorry about the disruption.

Sincerely,

Miranda

* * *


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